


Hours to Infinities

by macpetreshock



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston Fandom, Tom Hiddleston RPF, tom hiddleston - RPF
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Awkward Flirting, Dirty Talk, Dom Tom Hiddleston, Drama, Engagement, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Love, Love at First Sight, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mild Smut, Misunderstandings, POV Tom Hiddleston, Public Relations, RPF, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6060721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macpetreshock/pseuds/macpetreshock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tom's schedule finally allowed some free time to develop a daily routine, he finds himself enjoying the predictability, calm, and mornings spent reading in the corner at a local coffee shop. But from the moment she walks in and orders her first nonfat white chocolate mocha, something inexplicably changes. He may talk the big romantic talk, but is Tom Hiddleston willing to take a leap of faith and follow his heart?   *Tom POV*</p><p>*Elements of 'fairy tale love at first sight' and generally total escapism romance story. Perfect for those looking for lighthearted fluff with a good dose of humor and a side of smut.*<br/>***DOES CONTAIN EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT***</p><p>(Author Note, May 17, 2018: I haven't forgotten this story, given up writing it, or anything of that nature. Due to my divorce 2 years ago, I've been crazy busy as a single, working mom, and I started going to school to earn my business degree. In what *nonexistent* free time that I have, I'm planning to continue working on some of my fics, which one(s) I focus on will really depend on reader feedback!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In part due to the reasonable success of my Tom fic "What to Expect When You're Unsuspecting", I thought I'd go ahead and start posting chapters from this story which I'd started a while back. If there's interest, I'll continue posting what I have written and write more. Please let me know if you're interested in more of this. Thanks for reading!

Free time and a daily routine, it was nearly a foreign concept to me after nonstop working for more than a year, but with the next film on my schedule appearing to face numerous preproduction glitches and several weeks left before an onslaught of film promotions, time at home, time to develop a routine was just what I had.

It began innocently enough, not anything spectacular or something I’d even completely convinced myself to act on, though I suppose if fates sets you on a course to collide, you will eventually…

My morning run, followed by a shower, breakfast, and a short walk to the nearby coffee shop with a book, simply to get out a bit had become that routine. Home, my neighborhood was the one place I could generally count on not being too disturbed by public recognition, my safe haven, somewhere I could roam freely and live a normal life.

Except I’m not so sure what I did was normal at all. Then again, when you feel certain things stir so deeply in your heart that it ripples through your soul the first time you lay eyes on someone, I suppose it can make you behave quite strangely.

Out of habit, I sat quietly reading, seated at a table at the back, in a corner, angled toward the door, affording an excellent view of anyone entering, yet not causing me to be conspicuous. The time of day I would come, it wasn’t terribly busy, if you could ever call it busy. I’d never seen more than a half dozen other patrons come and go any day I occupied my time there.

Day twenty-eight of my coffee shop routine, I heard the electronic chime indicating the entrance of another customer and glanced up, as I did each time, to see who’d entered. And for what felt like several minutes, everything froze, at least I did. I’m quite sure I didn’t blink or breathe, and the only thing I could hear was the deafening sound of my hammering heart.

She set a backpack at a table on the same side of the shop as me, three tables between us, and gave a cursory glance in my direction as if acknowledging my presence but not _seeing_ me. She ordered a nonfat white chocolate mocha, set up a laptop at her table, and proceeded to work on it for two hours in silence, not looking in my direction again. I’d scrambled to remove my glasses and finger-comb my hair in hopes of improving my appearance should her eyes wander my way again, yet I found only disappointment.

            I couldn’t see her eye color clearly with the distance between us, but I didn’t think they were blue, and they definitely weren’t dark, not brown. Maybe green, maybe hazel. I wanted to know. Her hair was dark brown, so dark I mistook it for black when she first entered. And long. She had it pulled high up into a ponytail, and it still fell past her shoulders.

The coffee shop mystery woman wasn’t a tiny waif of a thing. No, she had curves I could appreciate, but she was clearly fit. Her black leggings and blue, long-sleeve, v-neck t-shirt didn’t provide a disappointing view by any means. I’d never been great at guessing heights without a comparison, but she didn’t appear short. I had to guess her to be somewhat taller than most of the extraordinarily petite women it seemed I’d been costarring with in recent projects.

When she left, I still didn’t know her name. My knowledge of her rested solely in observations. From the lack of any rings, I could at least surmise she likely wasn’t engaged or married. Any other level of significant other remained an unknown factor. Everything other than what she looked like, that she liked nonfat white chocolate mochas, and she could type incredibly fast remained as unanswered questions.

She didn’t come in the next day. It was a Tuesday. I hoped her appearance wasn’t a one-time event, my one chance, and I didn’t even have the nerve to say a single word.

On Wednesday, she came again at the same time, ordered the same nonfat white chocolate mocha, sat at the same table, worked on her laptop for the same two hours, and had her hair in the same ponytail. I wanted to see it down. She wore leggings again, dark heather grey this time, a red plaid button down, and white Converse. She looked comfortable and at ease with herself. I’d always found that to be an incredibly attractive trait in women.

I carefully thought of all the things I wanted to know about her, what I wanted to ask her, and how I should say it. I never left my table, and I never said a word.

 Thursday, my nonfat white chocolate mocha mystery woman never showed up. I even stayed an hour longer than usual, just in case. However, being an intelligent and educated man, I determined a certain pattern to her behavior.

As it neared nine o’clock on Friday, I was already watching the door, and anyone who happened by made my heart beat faster at the possibility it could be her. Sure enough, just as I predicted, at roughly nine (nine oh four, to be exact), she arrived, ordered her nonfat white chocolate mocha, set up her laptop, and worked for two hours. Her hair was in a braid that day, and I was correct in how extraordinarily long her hair was.

The cooler weather of the day had her in dark wash jeans, cuffed at the bottom, and an oversized, grey Carnegie Mellon hoodie that appeared quite worn. Again, she wore the white Converse. I wondered if those were her favorite comfortable shoes and if Carnegie was her alma mater, and she’d kept that all this time. I approximated her to be my age, out of university at least ten years.

All my questions and carefully thought through words to begin a conversation with her weren’t lost from Wednesday. They’d bounced around constantly, and I was sure I could approach her. Gathering my courage, I stood from my table, walked toward her, then quickly altered course to the counter and ordered another coffee, dashing back to my table before she might speak to me, all my well-planned words having vanished, my mind completely blank.

I spent that weekend helping Mum with projects around her house, which she could have hired someone to do, but since I had the rare commodity of free time, I’d insisted on tackling the minor odd jobs myself. Mum noticed I was distracted. I excused it as work-related. She didn’t buy my story but said nothing more. By Sunday night, I’d mentally run through every possible scenario for meeting my nonfat white chocolate mocha mystery woman that I could imagine.

As I was leaving Mum said, “Whomever you’re so smitten with, Thomas, you’d best take action before I see you again. I prefer my son visit in his entirety, thoughts present as well. And considering how far removed you’ve insisted on remaining from romantic attachments, I expect you’ll finally be bringing a ‘plus one’ to Sunday dinner next week. It’s certainly about time.”

One would think an ultimatum from my mum would have been just the push I needed. One would think wrongly.

Monday morning, I couldn’t sit still, and it wasn’t for an excess of caffeine. I’d barely touched my coffee. For that matter, I’d reread the same paragraph better than a dozen times. Some people accuse me of being easily excitable and tending to fidget, often unable to sit still, and I couldn’t possibly deny the accusations.

She arrived at her usual time, put her backpack at her usual table, and went to order her usual drink. Unlike usual, she wore her hair down and a simple, black, pleasingly short, yet appropriate skirt. As I suspected, she was fit. Very fit, likely athletic in some manner. Her legs held my attention for two hours. I wasn’t fidgeting then, but neither did I gather my courage to approach her.

The coffee shop felt dull on Tuesday, knowing she wouldn’t be in, but Wednesday improved, and I gained courage. The moment she entered, I jumped up and in queue behind her to place another order. I cleared my throat in hopes she’d turn and make eye contact or perhaps say something. She did neither. I may as well have been invisible.

Determined not to be invisible, as she stepped aside to wait for her drink to be prepared, and I was up to order, I said, “Ah, yes, a nonfat white chocolate mocha, please.” I spoke a tad louder than necessary and glanced in her direction, sure I saw her turning to look away as if she had been looking at me just before. That possibility carried me through two hours of internal debate, in which my courage nearly rallied. Not quite.

Thursday passed uneventfully. However, Friday… Friday was it. I was going to do it. I took extra care in dressing that day, not being too obvious, but trading my usual t-shirt for a relatively new blue and white striped button down, rolling the sleeves up for the added casual appearance. No hiding at the corner table that day. I sat one table away from her usual table and on the opposite side, giving me the best view, and making ‘accidental’ eye contact more likely.

When she entered the coffee shop Friday and walked to her usual table, she stopped short of setting her backpack down, looked around, shook her head then went on with the routine I had memorized. Nonfat white chocolate mocha in hand, she returned to her table, set up her laptop, and began working, typing away as she did each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She gave no indication she would look in my direction without reason, so I began humming the first tune that came to mind, and tried to appear as if I was casually staring off at nothing while actually staring holes through the wall just to her left.

Her deep sigh caught my attention immediately, a sliver of hope arising that she’d noticed me, a perfect opening for a conversation. Instead, she shook her head in frustration, rolling her eyes, dug a pair of earbuds from her backpack, plugged them into her laptop, and quite effectively tuned me out, not even sparing me a glance.

After yet another unsuccessful attempt at getting her to notice me or to gather the courage to simply say something, I walked home, humming to myself. “Unforgettable” was the song, I recalled a few houses away from home. I couldn’t remember the name when the tune came to mind at the shop, though I supposed that being what popped into my head suited the situation most perfectly. No matter if we were both in the coffee shop, I were home alone, or I were out anywhere, my thoughts always strayed her direction to some degree.

I found her unforgettable and _needed_ to meet her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there are actually people aside from me who find this story amusing and cute, here's the second chapter. :-) Comments are hugely appreciated, and I thank you for reading.

On weekends, I typically didn’t spend as much time at the coffee shop. I’d go to get coffee, sit at my corner table, and observe the customers coming and going, but I didn’t read then. The distractions were too great, and observing human behavior is useful as an actor, so I took those days as opportunities to do exactly that.

After two and a half hours that Saturday, I felt perhaps I’d creeped (more than) slightly into the territory of stalker, especially without a book giving me an excuse to sit for such a length of time, and waiting a full three hours to see if she showed up would definitely not be sane nor rational. I was beginning to far better empathize with my fans who waited for hours to see me… And at least they _knew_ I would arrive to make it all worthwhile in some way.

I headed home, frustrated she didn’t show up, though with no more reason than that it would’ve been the seventh day seeing her, and I wanted to believe in day seven as _the_ day, the day our stars would align… or whatever momentous event I thought would happen between us. Hands stuffed in my pockets, I kept my eyes focused on my shoes, concentrating on convincing myself she would definitely be there Monday, and Monday would be the day I’d finally speak to her.

Just as I turned the corner to my street, a shrieking scream caught every ounce of my attention. Not thirty meters ahead of me was my nonfat white chocolate mocha mystery woman, the source of the scream. It took me a moment to register what was going on. She’d dropped her backpack to the ground and had one arm flailing in the air as if batting at something, the other pulling at the neck of her blue plaid button down.

Then it hit me, kicking me into action. The tree right beside where she had obviously been walking had a wasp nest in it. I’d called and reported it twice, requested that the city have an exterminator deal with it before it became a serious public hazard, but it appeared they waited too long.

A fear of wasps or insects didn’t surprise me. Growing up with two sisters, I’d had to ‘rescue’ them from quite an assortment of such things ‘terrorizing’ them over the years. Only two were persistently hovering around her, and I easily smacked them dead between my bare hands, the second one stinging me in the process, but that wasn’t the first time I’d ever been stung, and I was fine.

By her actions, I presumed one had gotten in her shirt, and I had no idea how to possibly assist with that situation, but just when I began to ask if there was anything I could do, she stopped flailing around. As if stuck in slow motion, she pulled her hand away from the collar of her shirt, the wasp on it. I quickly shooed it off her and killed it as well, feeling satisfied the matter was resolved, but she stood like a statue, not moving her hand.

The matter was far from resolved. I don’t know how long it took for it to register, for me to realize just how wrong things were, but I know none of the scenarios of how I’d first speak to her that I’d played out in my head included any of what actually happened. She was not alright, dangerously not alright, and I was the only one in the vicinity.

Of course, leave it to my luck for a medical emergency to occur and it be the one time there’s not a single other person in sight on the street.

She vaguely pointed toward her backpack and mumbled something; however, she’d already become deathly pale, her struggle to breathe visibly evident. Immediately, I helped her to lie on the ground, shrugging off my jacket to create a pillow of sorts, careful not to raise her head too high, not wanting to restrict her airway further.

Her backpack. If she pointed to it, there had to be something to help in it. I expected her laptop and such would be in the larger compartment, making it sensible personal items would be in the front. Fortunately, I was correct. First, I found a small wallet of sorts with a slot for her ID on the outside, making it easy to take a quick peek, which I reasoned was necessary as it would be the first question asked by anyone who arrived to help.

Krys Tolbet DOB 27th March, 1981

I kept searching further and quickly, though the thoughts did cross my mind that Krys was a pretty and interesting name, something different, and I had been right about her being close to me in age, only a month and change younger.

An EpiPen. That’s what I found, down in the bottom of the front pocket, buried under everything you could imagine a woman carrying in her purse. It seemed simple enough, instructions right on it, very straightforward, and with minimal anxiety and shaking of my hands, I managed to inject it into her leg per directions. But Krys still didn’t look well at all.

I checked her pulse, barely able to find it, not for lack of knowledge on how, but for the fact it was terribly weak. Her breathing remained labored and shallow, her skin still pale. Though, with the EpiPen given, the only other thing I could do was call 999, which was also in its instructions.

With an ambulance on the way, I wasn’t sure what to do then I remembered the mobile phone I ran across in her backpack. I found it again and looked to see if she had anyone listed to call in case of emergency. She had one contact listed, a Trys Tolbet with a US number. Somehow, I didn’t think that would be of much help, but I still called to notify them of the situation.

My call was answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong Krys? You only call if something’s wrong, and you didn’t reply to my last message.”

“Um, this isn’t Krys.”

“Then who the fuck are you, and why do you have my sister’s phone. If you did anything to her, I swear to God, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.” She sounded serious enough for me to believe her.

“My name is Tom, and I just helped your sister. She was stung by a wasp, which I gather she’s severely allergic to.”

“She needs her EpiPen.”

“Done.”

“Call an ambulance. The EpiPen helps, but her allergy’s serious, she’ll need more help.”

“Done.”

“Okay then, Good Samaritan Tom, so far so good. You had enough sense to call her emergency contact in her phone. Now do me a huge favor. Since getting to a hospital in London, England from Austin, Texas is not logistically reasonable, go with her, and keep me updated. Texting will be fine.”

“No problem. I’ll keep you well informed.” The sound of sirens were approaching finally, giving me some sense of relief. “I can hear the ambulance now. I’ll text you when I know more.”

“And Tom, FYI, she’s allergic to morphine and sulfa drugs, and she’s only been there a few months and hasn’t bothered to find a doctor yet. The EpiPen was from her doctor in New York.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ve got it.”

“Tom,” she said in an authoritative tone, “go with her. Lie through your fucking teeth about who you are to her if you have to, but do not send her off in that ambulance alone. I swear to God…”

“Don’t worry.”

Everything went by in a blur of activity as the paramedics did their job. I gave them the pertinent information, which was all the information I knew about her; name, date of birth, allergies, and the lack of a general practitioner at the time, as well as explained exactly what had happened and what I had done before calling 999.

I’d picked up her backpack and slung it over my shoulder and retrieved my jacket after the paramedics pushed it out of their way. Then I could only stand back, watch, and wait, following as they moved to load her into the ambulance until I was leaning inside it as they finished securing her. “I need to ride with her. I have to be with her.”

“Are you her husband?” asked the older of the two in the back.

“Uh, no.” The question threw me off guard. He obviously didn’t recognize me.

“Only family members can ride with patients, sir. You’ll have to meet us at the hospital.”

“But you don’t understand,” I insisted. “She’s… She’s…” I took a deep breath and lied through my fucking teeth just like I told Trys I’d do. “She’s my fiancée, and she’s from New York. All her family is in America. I’m the only person she has here, the _only_ family she has here. Please, I need to be with her.”

He caved, though it was with obvious reluctance. “Get in. Don’t touch anything. Stay out of the way. And be useful, fill this out.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since you're being such wonderful readers, I'm posting another chapter over the weekend that I hope you enjoy. (Plus I had a chance to get online again.) As always, your reading is much appreciated, and I love to hear commentary from you all! :-)

The ride wasn’t overly long, but long enough to give me time to fill in answers to most of the daunting questions on the form, _if_ I knew the answers, so I improvised most of it. Name and date of birth were easy enough, medical information seemed simple, assuming Trys told me everything necessary. My address and phone number would suffice, and doubting she had health insurance being so new to the country, I put myself down to be billed. We could figure that out later.

When we arrived at A&E, I was hurried out of the ambulance and out of the way as they rushed her in, leaving me to follow behind, someone grabbing the clipboard from my hand with the blunt explanation they needed it, another person pulling me in a different direction, despite insistent pleas that I be allowed to remain with my fiancée. “Sir, we need you to go to registration and sign some paperwork while we start taking care of her then you’ll be allowed back.”

My head felt like it was spinning, and I simply did as I was told, going wherever I was led. The woman at registration reminded me of a teacher I once had in primary, though a tad less lovely in temperament than I remembered my former teacher. She asked most of the same questions I’d already answered on the form in the ambulance, and I gave the same answers, some legitimate, most improvised.

Soon, just as they said, I was permitted back into the restricted area and directed to where I could find Krys. The door was slightly ajar when I reached her room, and I heard a nurse chattering on in a bubbly way as she did her work, but other than beeping monitors and sounds of medical equipment, I heard nothing else, nothing to tell me if Krys was awake yet.

Taking a deep breath and hoping it would go smoothly, I knocked twice on the door before popping into the room, smiling, praying my acting skills were paying off to hide how nervous I felt, and relatively sure they weren’t. Krys was awake, her mouth and nose covered by an oxygen mask, but our eyes met, and I absolutely could not read her expression to know how the scenario would play out.

The bubbly blonde nurse turned to watch me enter, face bright and cheerful. “Well, this must be the fiancé the paramedics mentioned.” I nodded, eyes still on Krys. “She’s doing fine for now, but we need to monitor her for a while with the meds she’s been given, and we’ll see from there. Push the button there to call if you need any assistance. Be sure to ask for me. My name’s Katie.”

Katie left, all smiles and cheerfulness, closing the door behind her, and suddenly, I was completely alone with the woman who I’d been nearly stalking for the past two weeks, had never really spoken to, yet declared was my fiancée while she was unconscious, and there she was, awake, staring at me and not even knowing my name.

Where to begin in the complicated story of how it all began…

“Do you remember me helping you when you got stung?” She nodded but still stared at me as if I were insane. “Well, after I administered the EpiPen and called 999, I found your emergency contact in your mobile and called your sister. Trys was quite adamant that I stay with you, _no matter what it took_. And since only family could ride in the ambulance or be back here, I sort of told them we were engaged, and with you not having any family in country, they allowed me to count as your ‘family’ under the circumstances.”

Krys continued to say nothing and stared at me.

That only served to make me exceedingly more nervous and concerned she might press the button and start screaming that I was some stark raving lunatic she’d never met before and demand they call the police. “So… Congratulations on the engagement. It’s very nice to finally speak to you, and my name’s Tom, by the way. I took a peek at your ID to get your name already. It seems an unfair advantage that I know your name, and you don’t know mine.”

She pulled the oxygen mask down, which made it easier for her to speak. “Tom the Coffee Shop Creeper.”

Her tone was playful, a teasing grin on her face, and I walked further into the room, dropping her backpack gently onto the floor against the wall, sliding the empty chair closer to the bed, and sat down. It was the first time I’d really looked at her eyes, and I determined they were sea green, green near the iris, becoming more of a blue-green the further toward the outer edge. And they were the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen.

“Tom the Coffee Shop Creeper? I sound quite disreputable when you say it that way when in truth I’m more Tom the Cowardly Coffee Shop Admirer,” I admitted, looking at the floor as I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I didn’t think you noticed me.”

“Besides the employees, you were pretty much the only other person in there. And it’s a little hard to ignore the fact that an attractive guy is ogling you for two hours on six different days.” Krys smiling and that she called me ‘an attractive guy’ had me so distracted, I almost missed what she said next. “So, Tom, you saw my ID and know my name, are you gonna give up the goods and reveal my fiancé’s full name, or am I stuck calling you Tom Coffee Shop until death do us part?”

We both laughed, though she started coughing, and I reached over to insistently put the oxygen mask back in place. “As much as I want to talk with you, and I do very much so, I’d rather you get well enough for us to do it somewhere other than a hospital.” She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Thank you, darling. And as for my name, although Tom Coffee Shop does have a certain appeal, I’m rather attached to my name and think I’ll keep it. So I suppose it would be polite of me to reveal that secret to my fiancée…”

I winked, and even through the mask, I could see her smile. The whole predicament seemed to make talking to her easier than I expected, but telling her my name left me anxious. She hadn’t given any sign she actually recognized me, though my most recent project had me more tanned with shorter, blonder hair, and with its greater physical demands, I’d put on a bit more muscle than usual. None of it was horribly drastic, but I certainly felt I appeared very different, perhaps less easily recognizable on the street, especially with the addition of (mostly) necessary prescription glasses that I hated wearing, yet had on at the time. But my name, my name was irrefutably recognizable.

“It’s Thomas William Hiddleston. I usually go by Tom, a lot of people call me Hiddles, Mum always calls me Thomas, and my sisters call me horrid things I refuse to repeat in polite company.”

The recognition swept over her face. I watched and could see it as clear as lightning flashing in a night sky. The way her eyes widened, mouth opened, and the sharp intake of breath, I knew those signs quite well, and all-too often, they were followed by various exclamations of fangirl adoration and sometimes even absolute hysterics. The latter kinds of incidents freaked me out more than seeing me freaked them out, leaving me incredibly unsettled.

But her expression settled into total calm, save for a smirk of a smile I saw as she pulled the oxygen mask down again. “Well, Tom, I’ll have to tell your mum and sisters that you’re a bit of a disappointment for a fiancé. I didn’t even get a ring.”

I shook my head and pushed her mask back on properly. “What can I say? It was a spur of the moment sort of thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also need some serious reader feedback on an issue that's arisen in the story. I'm SEVERAL chapters ahead in writing this story and was writing the first sex scene yesterday. I did put in the tag "eventual sex" and marked this as "Teen" rating, but the characters didn't want to cooperate by those rules so much. Things got a bit explicit and rather smutty. Will it be a problem for current readers if I up the rating to "Mature" and include such sex scenes? Do you prefer I rewrite to release the hard stuff and not go too deep? (pun totally intended) Let me know, and I'll find a way to work with the readership I have. All I can say is that what I ended up with after writing yesterday was far from "Teen" rated. My sister and I both read over it and agreed it misses that by miles. So the vote is yours: Smut or No Smut in future chapters?


	4. Chapter 4

One near-death experience, two adrenaline injections, one bag of intravenous fluids, an antihistamine injection, three albuterol breathing treatments, and roughly six hours later, Krys and I were climbing into a cab to head away from the hospital and ambulances with no wasps in sight.

            “Where to,” asked the cabbie, and I gave him my address.

            Krys leaned into me and spoke in a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me, or is this part of your elaborate engagement shenanigans, whisking me off to some secretive locale for our elopement?”

            I gave her an exaggerated frown and sighed. “That just takes all the fun out of the surprise if you figure it out, darling… No. Actually, I thought we’d… well, that you’d… Now that I think about it, it’s probably crazy to think I should ask after today, and you can just say ‘no’ without hurting my feelings at all. I’ve overstepped so many boundaries today, I don’t seem to know where to stop, where the line is that I shouldn’t cross. This isn’t quite what I—”

            “Tom, spit it out. What did you want to do? Considering the day we’ve had, I think crazy is what we do best together, so I can’t imagine what you think is a worse suggestion than anything we’ve already done.”

            She had me there.

“Well, I didn’t imagine you’d feel up to doing much of anything after what you’ve been through, but you must be starving by now, so I thought we could go to my place, I’d order takeaway, and maybe we could watch a movie.”

            “Oh, no, that is actually perfect. No cooking required. I can be completely lazy, which is seriously all I feel like doing.”

When she looked up at me with those beautiful eyes, sitting so close, it was difficult to remember we’d technically just met for the first time that day. I’d been drawn to her like a magnet since I laid eyes on her, and she felt inexplicably familiar. The way we had easily talked and passed the time in A&E and how there were no “first date” awkward moments between us physically, in absolute comfort within one another’s personal space, it was as if we were always meant to accommodate the other’s presence.

“I’m curious to see your movie collection… Do you happen to have The Hollow Crown?” she asked with an absolute straight face, and I nearly choked on air. “I know it’s not technically a movie, but I love it and could watch Henry V a million times, never getting tired of it.”

“So you did recognize me?”

“Not at all, but I did recognize your name. You look completely different from Harry, though if I sat and thought about it long enough while looking at you, I might have eventually placed you from when I was here January last year and saw Coriolanus. Still, how you look performing on stage and how you look just casually in person are vastly different, at least in my opinion.”

I wasn’t sure where to go from there. Everything in me screamed not to let her slip between my fingers, that she was the one. But Luke’s voice screamed and ranted about the dangers of dating fans. And we were getting closer to my home, a place I would never want to take someone who’d turn out to be no more than a fangirl wanting to get close to her celebrity crush.

“I take it you’re a fan?”

“Of Shakespeare? I have been since I was about fifteen, and I have to say, your performances are among the best I’ve seen in either theater or film. Although, I do have to say Henry V is the least faithful adaptation of The Hollow Crown series, there’s a beauty in its stylistic accessibility to a broader audience, and you portrayed him with such soulful passion, making me still love the end result... I bet you’d sound amazing reciting his sonnets.” She sighed quietly and leaned her head on my shoulder. “Maybe sometime I could bring over my book of Shakespeare’s sonnets and convince you to read some for me.”

All the worries Luke’s voice had been screaming at me disappeared. Any Hiddlestoner would know I’m the biggest Shakespeare fan there is, and they’d have likely used The Love Book app to hear me recite romantic sonnets to them repeatedly.

“What do you think of my other work? Am I good at anything other than Shakespeare?” I asked half-jokingly.

“Um, I don’t know. What else have you been in?”

As the cabbie took the turn onto my street, I couldn’t suppress my grin. “Nothing really important. I can show you another day. We’ll watch Henry V tonight.”

“Alright. I’ll hold you to that and not Google you or anything. I’d rather learn about you from you, not questionable internet sources. Besides, if you have to show me your other work then you have to see me again.”

 I didn’t know what thrilled me more, that she wouldn’t cross anything horribly embarrassing on Tumblr, the fact she simply wanted to get to know me the way any normal couple would, or the knowledge she did indeed want to see me again. At some point in the day, the reality that we weren’t already together and possibly wouldn’t get together slipped away, only hitting me square in the face as we walked out of the hospital, and I realized if she wanted to go home, I had no idea where that was. A boyfriend would know that.

The cabbie stopped in front of my house, I paid the fare, and we were finally alone. As I took her hand and led her to the door, Krys giggled. “It’s not exactly a castle fit for Harry, King of England, but I like it. Something about it suits you.”

“Fit for Harry or not, it’s my castle, and I’m king of it.” I looked away at nothing in particular and added, “All that’s missing is my queen,” under my breath, not expecting her to hear me.

“Well, I do suppose every good king needs a queen,” she remarked, and I dropped my keys.

I kept my mouth shut until we were inside, unsure if Krys was simply playing it off good-naturedly or perhaps didn’t catch the deeper meaning behind my words. Either way, I didn’t want to ruin what had been an oddly good day together, considering how we’d spent it.

By quarter to nine, Krys and I had nearly finished an entire large pizza. I’d learnt she refuses to eat the crust, prefers juice over soda, hates milk, and has an obsessive compulsive need for drawers to be pushed closed completely, not left the slightest bit open when not in use. She reorganized two of my kitchen drawers in order to see to it they would do so to her satisfaction.

I didn’t mind one bit. I liked it. No, I loved it. As greatly as she felt the need to organize those drawers, I felt a deep, growing desire for her to be comfortable and at home in my house. It was something I couldn’t explain to myself until later in the evening.

Though we’d begun Henry V sitting side-by-side on the couch, we kept changing positions the longer we watched, Krys cuddling into my side, my arm around her began the chain of events that led to the way it all ended. By the well-known scene of Harry’s romantic proposal to Kate, we were stretched out with me against the back of the couch and Krys’s back against my chest, her head on my right arm as my left arm was wrapped around her waist.

The credits rolled then the DVD automatically shut off, the room fell silent, and Krys sniffled just as I realized my arm was wet where she’d been laying on it. “Are you crying?”

She wiped her sleeve across her eyes and huffed. “Yes. I always do. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve watched The Hollow Crown, and believe me, that’s a whole hell of a lot of times, the ending gets me. I know it’s a small part of the story, but Harry and Kate have a beautiful romance in this. He’s really just met her, barely knows her, yet he professes such a profound love for her when he proposes. To me, if ever a princess found her Prince Charming, it was Kate, only she was the one found, and by a king, not a prince. But their happily ever after is too short-lived, and so I always cry for their tragic ending.”

That’s when I had some way to reasonably explain to myself how I felt when I’d experienced nothing comparable.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, wishing I could see her face. As if she could hear my thoughts, she wiggled around and rolled over to face me, though on the minimal space of the couch, there were no more than a few inches between us, and I kept my arm around her to be sure she didn’t end up on the floor.

“Sorry. I just prefer looking at you when we’re talking. It feels rude to have my back to you. This isn’t uncomfortable is it?” Glancing down at her hand resting on my chest, she sucked in her bottom lip. “I could move over to the chair if you’d rather… Or we could just sit up if you want.”

“No, this is perfect. Stay right here.” My voice was low, the words soft, and for a moment, something remained in the air between us, not an awkward silence, an electricity, a spark, a magnetism refusing to be ignored. “I’ve only really just met you, barely know you, yet I cannot deny feeling that you’re the Princess Katherine to my King Harry, with the possibility of a much better ending.”

When Krys gave no response, her gaze firmly focused on her hand, which was still on my chest, my heartbeat sped up anxiously. I knew she had to feel it, and that only served to worsen my anxiety. “That was too forward, wasn’t it? You’ve had quite a day then here I go off and—”

“And had us engaged before I even knew your name?” she teased, calming my nerves slightly. “In comparison, I’d say this is tremendously less forward.” That’s when she looked me in the eyes. “I thought it was just me or maybe an effect of today. You’ve been so amazing and sweet through this, and all the pretending we were engaged at the hospital… the whole thing made it too easy to imagine it wasn’t such an act.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” I whispered. “I’ve spent the past two weeks trying to gain the courage to simply speak to you then this seemed like a leapfrog over all the difficult, awkward parts of first dating, trying to determine if you’re compatible. Somehow, I can’t help but feel as though we _belong_ together, and I can’t seem to convince myself otherwise.”

“You’re not going to declare this ‘love at first sight’ are you?” She laughed, but at the same time, leaned in closer.

“Maybe the nearest thing to it outside of faery tales, not instantaneous love, but an immediate connection, the sense that two people are meant for one another.” I ran my fingers along her cheek, holding her gaze intensely. “Call it fate, destiny, whatever you like. I choose to believe it does happen, that falling in love can be sudden, surprising, shocking… a beautifully chaotic event.”

“Are you always such a romantic?”

“I’d like to think so.” Then I kissed her, gently, sweetly, the way Harry first kissed Kate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader feedback on "Smut or No Smut" turned up with ALL THE SMUT by nearly a landslide vote. Lol. You're all a bunch of pervs. I love you. You are readers after my own heart. ;-)
> 
> I'll be changing the rating and adding some tags as the chapters near THE ONE that brought on the smut issue in the first place, but that's several chapters away, so you'll have to chill a bit until then. FYI, regarding the 'as long as it's a well-written intimate engagement' comment... I hope a well-written explicit sex scene in which Tom is VERY dominant in the bedroom and has a proclivity for what some may consider a bit of a kink works for you. Just remember that I have a background as a professional romance author with rather explicitly erotic scenes in my novels, sooooo... yeah. My beta readers always say they need alcohol and a cold shower after reading those particular chapters. I'll just leave it at that.
> 
> If you are at all squeamish about smut, dominance in the bedroom, dirty talk, rough sex, explicit language, and general erotica, you should leave before you get too deeply involved in this story. I hate to run off lovely readers, but I also do not want to upset anyone. This story is a combination of fluffy sweet romance and erotic smutty sex. IMO, all good relationships have both. ;-)
> 
> For those who may be leaving, I hope you'll at least subscribe to me as a writer. There may be stories in the future which are not 'open door' on the sex scenes, something you might prefer. You never know what plot bunny will attack.
> 
> Regardless, thank you to everyone reading. I greatly appreciate your time and always love to read comments from you! <3 -Mel


	5. Chapter 5

As it turned out, Krys lived approximately a three-minute walk from my house, explaining us frequenting the same coffee shop and crossing paths that morning. To be honest, I didn’t want her to go home, didn’t want her to leave, but we made plans for brunch the next day, I invited her to Sunday dinner at Mum’s, she said she’d think about it, and that had to satisfy me for the time being.

            When I returned from walking her home, I checked my phone, which I’d plugged in to charge since it died whilst at A&E, and with Krys to keep me company, I hadn’t spared a thought for the outside world, including my phone.

            I’d missed three calls from Luke and two texts demanding I call him the moment I received his messages. He leaned toward rather dramatic tendencies, and rumors exaggerating my friendships with female costars caused near meltdowns. The misunderstanding from the previous month still had him on edge with the possibly scandalous affair and breakup in which I’d been implicated, all on the cusp of a hectic schedule with three film releases.

I refused to acknowledge the nonsense that would inevitably die down on its own.

            We were at odds on how to handle the situation, and I expected his calls were related to some other “news” that had been distributed on the topic, furthering his argument to release a statement in order to calm the waters before TIFF.

            However, I returned his call anyway, and he answered on the first ring. Anxious Luke is never a good Luke. “Tom, where have you been? When I need to reach you, you need to answer your phone. And honestly, as your personal publicist, I should be notified if you’re going to do something insane that will end up all over the internet.” All of that came out in one breath, but before I could respond, he continued. “Just a little warning, a heads up, that’s all I’m asking, so I know to expect this tsunami-level shitstorm of emails and phone calls.”

            I gathered perhaps I was incorrect in my assumed reasons for him calling. “How about, you tell me what I’ve done, and I’ll tell you why I didn’t give you any forewarning, because right now, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

            “For starters, as much as I know you prefer to keep your personal life personal, you should have told me you were dating someone and definitely informed me you were getting engaged.” Krys. Nauseated, I curled up on my bed, listening yet not hearing, attempting to comprehend the enormity of what I’d thoughtlessly brought on her. “You might like to think there’s some degree of normalcy to your life, but let’s face facts, Tom. There isn’t. Every time you walk out your door, there may be a camera aimed at you, and chances are, every photo taken, along with commentary regaling what you were doing and who you were with will end up on the internet. From there, we both know, if it has your name on it, it spreads across the worldwide web like wildfire, ten times faster once Tumblr gets a hold of it.”

            He paused and sighed. “Tom, I’m sorry, but we need to address this. Photos were taken of you together at the A&E today by multiple sources, all saying they heard you specifically state that the woman brought in was your fiancée. All of that is now being linked to a photo that cropped up earlier today of what looked like you getting into an ambulance to ride along with a patient, but at the time, no one could verify it was you.”

            “It was. It’s all true. Where they claim I was, what they claim I did and said, none of it is false or even slightly exaggerated.” I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. Not even twenty-four hours ‘together’ before I’d given Krys reason to hate me. “But it’s not what you think. Just don’t do anything yet. I need to talk to her first. I’ll call you back.”

            With that, I hung up, and undoubtedly, left Luke cursing me on the other end of the line, still anxiously wanting the go-ahead to meet the situation head-on from a PR standpoint, but none of that mattered to me. My singular priority lay in the desperate need to come clean with Krys about my career, my fame, all the baggage I brought into a relationship because of it and convince her not to walk away.

            _“Are you still up?”_ I sent via text, not wanting to disturb her if she was indeed sleeping, hoping she remained as awake as I did.

            _“Yes. Spending the day laying in a hospital bed then on your sofa has me wide awake when I should be sleeping. What’s your excuse?”_

_“We need to talk. May I come over?”_ It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have, but better to get it over with than her find out from anyone other than me.

            There was a longer delay before her reply to that message, and when I received it, I understood why. _“In my experience WE NEED TO TALK never means anything good… Come on over.”_

            I didn’t have the heart to tell her it _didn’t_ mean anything good, but not for the reasons she likely thought. Brushing off what other work I’d done as ‘nothing important’ and giving her a quick tour of my house, careful to exclude my office where all the awards I’d received were displayed had only swept trouble under the rug for a brief time. Essentially, I’d lied and taken advantage of how little knowledge she had of me. And I knew damn well I did.

            _“Be there soon.”_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since chapters 5 & 6 are both short and I'm feeling generous, you get them both in one day.

Despite dragging my feet about it, I’d gathered together what I expected would be useful in the conversation relatively quickly and headed over completely unprepared to accept writing ‘the end’ to our story when it had just begun.

            Luke’s comments had me a tad paranoid, looking in every direction and over my shoulder repeatedly, expecting to see someone pointing a camera at me, worried I might be followed when walking to Krys’s house. But it was a quiet night, and I didn’t see another person between my front door and hers.

            “So what do we need to talk about, and what the hell is all of this?” she fired off the second she closed the door behind me.

            “This is what we need to talk about, or rather, what I need to explain. Do you have somewhere I could set it out?” My smile was weak, much like my argument for why she should stay with me despite everything I was about to tell her.

            Krys looked at the bags I carried then at me and groaned. “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this? Come on. I can move some stuff on the dining table to make space.” As she shuffled piles of papers and notebooks, shutting her laptop, and organizing various books, I began setting up my laptop. “Is this some sort of PowerPoint presentation complete with real-life examples and hands-on visual aids?”

            Once she’d finished settling her things, I turned my laptop around to face her with my IMDb page on screen. “Calling my other work ‘nothing important’ earlier was utterly dishonest and misleading.” As she scrolled through, eyes ever widening, my heart hammering painfully in the silence, I started pulling out DVDs and magazines. “These are copies of every film I’ve been in, and this is just a taste of the array of magazines in which I’ve been featured. My publicist gives me copies, which I don’t usually keep, but these were on a shelf where I hadn’t gotten around to tossing them. You’re welcome to keep them all if you like,” I said, dropping the lot of them onto the table.

            She jumped back, startled, glaring at me, and guilt hit immediately. “I’m sorry,” I mouthed, too choked by the anguish of what would come that the words made no sound.

            “No. Don’t, Tom. Look, I have no idea what this is all about, but just stop it. If you want to watch those DVDs with me because you want to share your work with me and spend time together, fine, but don’t you fucking throw them around in my house like this. And those magazines, same damn thing goes for them. If there’s something specific you want to share with me because you’re particularly proud of the article or the interview, or hell, even how nice you look in the photos, then we can sit down together, and you can tell me all about it, but I don’t want them tossed at me like I’m just some fan who wants a piece of you.”

            Wiping a tear away, I shook my head. “That’s… That’s not what I meant by any of that, Krys, but you have to understand who I am or else you don’t really know what you’re doing with me, what life I’m dragging you into when I beg you to stay.”

            “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad. We went all day without anything crazy happening… or at least nothing crazy related to you being an actor.”

            I took my laptop back and did the one last thing I could do to ensure she fully understood, went the one place on the internet I swore I’d never go again. But I didn’t have any other choice.

            And the terrifying world of Tumblr didn’t fail to serve up exactly what I expected. The top search results for my name produced more than a dozen posts either with photos of Krys and me at A&E or discussing the topic. I gestured for her to come near, saddened by her hesitancy, the wary look in her eyes, yet the way she slid an arm around my waist and leaned into me soothed a fraction of my fears.

            “So just how bad— Oh, my god that’s us. How did… Where… Why the hell are these on the internet?” Before she could click on any of the posts, I grabbed her hand. “Tom, what the—”

            “Krys, you have to trust me. You don’t want to see what they say. My fans can be a bit… unpredictable. For the most part, they’re wonderfully supportive and positive, but my personal life…” I shut my laptop and pulled Krys tightly into my arms. “There are those who would wish me well in whatever makes me happy and congratulate me on finding love. Then there are those who will say scathingly hateful things about anyone they even think I’m dating. Of course, I’m sure there is a middle ground as well, but it’s the extreme fans who worry me. They’re the ones who could be too excitable to give us any privacy or too jealous to leave you safe.”

            “Then this is goodbye? All this is your excuse for changing your mind—”

            “God no! That’s not what I want, Krys.” If I grasped her arms any tighter, I’d have hurt her for certain, but I couldn’t rationalize letting go. “How do I keep you _and_ keep you safe? Tell me, because that’s what I want, and I don’t know how. I can’t let you go, but I can’t bear the thought of causing you pain.”

            “I don’t understand what you think they’re going to do to me, Tom. So what if they say shit about me on some website and maybe get pictures of us when we’re out sometimes. I’ve got tougher skin than to be bothered by smack talk from people who know nothing about me.”

            She sounded certain of what she said, and I hoped it wasn’t pure selfishness that led me to stop arguing any further. “Alright then. We’ll call my publicist Luke and see where we go from here. The story’s already out that we’re engaged. Apparently, people overheard me say it at A&E and wasted no time in splashing it across social media. This can’t wait, unfortunately.”

            Nodding, she pulled away as I pick up my phone to dial Luke’s number. “I’ll just go make some tea while you… whatever.”

            Her voice sounded off, worrisome. “Krys, no matter what Luke recommends we do, we won’t go forward with anything that makes you uncomfortable. Promise me you’ll tell me the second you’re not okay with something, anything, regardless of when or where or what it is.”

            “I will.” Meeting my concerned gaze with her mesmerizing sea-glass green eyes, she smiled. “And you swear honesty from here on out, or there’s no point in this.”

            “You have my word. No more half-truths or omissions, or anything less than absolute honesty.” I would have promised her the moon if possible, the inexplicable force drawing me to her gaining strength I had no desire to fight.

            With a smile playing at her lips, she nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to laugh at the very apt description of the last chapter made in a comment by roo2010 "Tom, in his haste to sort out the situation, was a bit like a bull in a china shop!" YES. EXACTLY THAT.
> 
> Comments from readers are great. I love to hear what you have to say about the different chapters and scenarios that play out between characters as well as the way the characters are written and anything else you want to say. Thanks for taking the time to read and follow this story!

Once again, Luke wasted no time answering my call. “Tom, you best have an explanation for what’s going on, and it better be good.”

            “Let me start from the beginning…” And I told him everything; the mornings at the coffee shop, my inability to simply speak to Krys, our disastrous first meeting, her sister, the ambulance, each detail of the events from our hours at A&E, not leaving out even the more personal matters of our time together at my house then finished by telling him of our conversation since we’d last spoken.

            “So you aren’t truthfully engaged, but you are technically together…” Luke sounded hesitant. “And you expect this one to be significant? Significant enough to join you at events? I need to know if you’re willing to walk the red carpet with her, Tom, because that makes a difference in how we approach this.”

            Was I willing to walk the red carpet with Krys? Luke wasn’t pulling any punches on the matter. He knew there hadn’t been anyone significant enough in my life that I’d do such a thing since Susannah. To ask was the litmus test to answer Luke’s ultimate question: who is Krys to me _really_?

“I’m willing if she’s willing, and I believe she’d be agreeable, but I’ll need to ask Krys to be positive.”

            “Ask Krys what,” she questioned, popping her head around the corner from the kitchen.

            “If you’re willing to attend events with me; upcoming film festivals, premieres, awards and charity events. Lots of exquisite gowns and fabulous dresses for you, me in suits or tuxedos, and us seen together in photographs and video clips across television, newspapers, magazines, the internet, everywhere.” My enthusiastic tone was as false as her expression was doubtful.

            “Is it important that I go?” Luke piped up immediately in a litany of reasons why it was terribly important, critical even. I ignored him. “And I don’t mean important to your publicist, who obviously has an opinion, since I can hear him on the phone from over here. Or whether it’s important to your career even… Is it important to _you_ , Tom? Do _you_ want me there, at your side, for all the world to see?”

            “Yes. Absolutely, undoubtedly, yes, I want you with me, Krys.”

            “Okay then.” Back into the kitchen she went without another word.

            “In case you missed that, she agreed, Luke. Now what master plan of PR shenanigans have you devised, of which I’ll want no part?”

            “Unfortunately, part of this, you have no real choice in, and that’s your own fault.” He sounded like a disapproving mother, which was worse than Anxious Luke. “You falsified information on legal documents when you filled out the paperwork in both the ambulance and at hospital registration, listing yourself as her fiancé, your residence as hers, you as her emergency contact, and I’m sure you get the idea. If we go public with a statement saying you and Krys are not engaged but merely dating, barely even that, and try explaining the hospital incident, you’ll not only risk a serious hit to your reputation as we head into three film releases and awards season, but there is the possibility that you could be facing legal ramifications for your actions, Tom.”

            “Fuck.” I’d not thought through anything I’d done the entire day and put Krys and I both at risk of a host of complicating factors. “Then what are you suggesting?”

            “Buy her an engagement ring, keep dating, and play it off to everyone else that you’re actually engaged. Tell your mum and sisters if you absolutely must, same with her immediate family, but keep this under wraps, both of you.” From his side, I could hear him typing away on his computer. “The only way your fans are going to take this well is with Krys hitting the red carpet. Show the world the faery tale couple in love, Prince Charming and his Cinderella, or King Harry and his Princess Katherine as you mentioned before, something media worthy. Fans need to fall in love with your real life romance, anecdotes of first seeing Krys at a coffee shop and being too nervous to talk to her. From the way you’ve spoken of it all, you make it sound like that kind of ‘love at first sight’ tale. Continue with that angle.”

            “At least that’s not a lie… and the engagement is simply an exaggeration. We’ve been teasing one another about it all day. I suppose keeping it going won’t hurt,” I tried reasoning with myself more so than responding to a word Luke spoke.

            “For all our sakes, I hope she has a personality to match yours. We don’t need a Ben and Sophie disaster with _your_ fans, not when they’re going as strong as they are at the moment… I found a gorgeous ring at Tiffany’s that would be perfect; platinum band, two and half carat princess-cut diamond, and there are small round diamonds accenting the band. Here, I’ll email you the picture. If that works for you, let me know her size, and I’ll take care of that first thing tomorrow so no one sees you there.”

            Reopening my laptop, I quickly pulled up my email. Luke was right. It was as close to perfect as we’d likely get on such short notice, and certainly something I could see myself choosing, subtle and elegant, not an ostentatious showpiece.

            “Krys,” I called into the kitchen, and she appeared in the doorway eyeing me warily.

            “What, Tom?”

            “What size ring do you wear?” Grinning like an idiot while asking, I would never admit to Luke how, secretly, the more I thought of Krys as _truly_ with me, the more ecstatic I became.

            “Why?”

            “Because I’m buying you a real engagement ring.” I expected a flurry of questions to follow that statement.

            “Size five in the US. And honestly, Tom, the ring’s supposed to come before the proposal, not after. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?” She rolled her eyes, winked, and went back to the kitchen.

            I suspected she was doing more than making tea. She’d been in there too long, and I thought I smelt something enticingly sweet. If my not-fiancée fiancée could bake, I’d be at risk of giving up acting to become a fat, lazy, married man, reading Shakespeare and eating cake all day, every day.

            “She says a size five US. I’d imagine the store knows the conversion. And Luke, I think she’s baking.”

            “No. No. No… Do I need to come over and talk to her about your sweet tooth, Tom? Because I will. Believe me, Krys and I will be getting to know each other quite well over the next few months. It might as well start tonight,” he warned.

            “At least for now, I can take comfort in the fact you don’t know where she lives.”  My chuckles were met with dead silence, quickly silencing me as well. “Luke.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand for an explanation.

            “Tom, while I was waiting for you to call back the second time, I found a fan forum where someone had posted a grainy photo of you walking Krys home… and they posted her address.” Infuriated, I wanted to punch the wall and vomit, but I didn’t move. “I contacted the site admin and got it taken down immediately, but I don’t know how many people may have seen it or where else it may be. As if fans figuring out where you live hasn’t been a big enough headache, I’m not even sure where to begin with how to handle this.”

            “You handle the ring. I’ll speak with Krys regarding this matter. If we need you, I won’t hesitate to call.”

            A twinge of jealousy niggled at the thought of Luke choosing an engagement ring for Krys. Be it for show or not, I wanted to be the one. I wanted to browse the selections at various jewelers, carefully examining each ring I liked until _the_ ring captured my eye, and I would know, know beyond a doubt that it was the ring for my future wife. And I believed despite the situation, I’d have felt no differently shopping for Krys’s engagement ring, because to me, Krys was… Krys, the Kate to my Harry, and those were the only words I had to explain the foreign utterances of my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's reading this and hasn't read my Tom fic "What to Expect When You're Unsuspecting", I'll just mention that it might be of interest if you like Daddy!Tom, particularly the concept of Tom as a single dad, heartbreaking circumstances, and raising a little girl alone from birth. <3 Lots of other things are happening as well, but the center of the story is really Tom and his daughter. Plenty of FEELS of the adorable and tearjerker varieties. And that's my cross-promotional pitch since I've got two stories I'm writing on here at once... ;-)


	8. Chapter 8

Faery cakes. Krys busied herself baking faery cakes, which smelt absolutely decadent, and she didn’t notice when I entered the kitchen. “I thought you were making tea and would come back.”

            She jumped slightly then went on as if I hadn’t startled her at all. “Yeah, well, you were talking to your publicist, and I’m not the nosy type. If you needed me, you’d let me know, but otherwise…” Focusing, she decoratively added the frosting to each cake, swirling ever-so precisely. “I do want honesty, Tom, but I needed to step away and absorb all of this. Maybe… just a little, I didn’t want to hear what publicists say and what plans they make in cases like this. I don’t know him. I don’t even know if I’ll like him—”

            “You will, I promise,” I assured with a smile that went unseen.

            “Mhmm.” Nodding, Krys maintained her focus on the frosting. “Tom, I’m trying to be a good sport about all this insanity, because I want to give this… whatever this connection between us is a chance to be everything it _can_ be… everything I’m hoping it _could_ be, but you have to admit you’re expecting a lot and accept that I need to cope with this in my own ways.” Finally, she looked up at me, unsure, a halfhearted smile waning. “It would be really helpful if you like cupcakes… and cookies and cakes and pies… and well, baked goods and pretty much food in general. And probably good if Luke does too… and anybody else you’ve got around like that.”

            “Oh, you have no idea. Please, if that’s your coping mechanism then by all means, cope away, cope a lot, cope on and on, and please let me know if I can provide you with _anything_ to improve your coping skills, so as to ease your stress.”

            A huge grin broke out on her face. “You have a sweet tooth.”

            “Maybe.” I grinned to match hers. “What are you baking right now? They smell and look delightfully decadent.”

            “Death by Oreo cupcakes. Each one has an Oreo cookie at the bottom then the cupcake is devil’s food chocolate with finely crushed Oreos mixed in, and they’re topped with a chocolate buttercream frosting, also mixed with finely crushed Oreos, and then you garnish each one with one-quarter of an Oreo cookie.” Expertly cutting one Oreo into quarters, she topped four frosted delights, and presented a single product of her hard work to me. “Try it.”

            It was far better than it smelt, far better than it looked, absolutely sinful in how heavenly it tasted. “This is extraordinary. If it were a person, I would marry it.”

            Krys rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. That’s worse than a sweet tooth. That’s like a dessert-induced mental disorder.”

            “Just call me crazy for sweets,” I laughed and licked the last of the frosting from my fingers as she watched me, her expression turning serious. “What?”

            “I think I’ve absorbed enough to do. Spill it. Why do you want me going with you to these events, and what’s the serious story behind the whole ring bit?” Her eyes never left mine as she leaned against the oven, arms crossed over her chest. “What _did_ Luke have to say?”

            “How do you feel about continuing our current engagement, though upgraded to include a rather impressive ring on your finger?” Smiling anxiously, I awaited her response and hoped for the best.

            “Um… Tom, you do remember we aren’t actually engaged, right? In fact, I don’t even know how to categorize our relationship. We haven’t exactly defined what we’re doing.”

            “I know we aren’t, and as for the rest, I would like to categorize us as nothing less than dating, you as my girlfriend, significant other, the woman who’s captivated me from the moment I laid eyes on her. And I hope we are going forward from here. Together.” I’d moved to stand directly in front of her, taking her hands in mine. “And I’m so sorry we can’t do this the way we’d ideally like to, but it seems the world believes we’re already engaged. Given that I have three films about to release in the next few months, and I completed registration documents at the hospital falsifying information, revealing the truth at this time could massively impact my reputation and possibly put me in a fair bit of legal hot water.”

            Her eyes widened as the realization set in. “Fuck.”

            “Funny, that’s exactly what I said.”

            “None of this is really funny.” Krys took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Okay. So I wear an engagement ring, and we go places together, and people continue believing the story, and we use the time to go forward like you said. That sounds simple enough.”

            Rubbing my thumbs over the back of her hands, I hated what I was putting her through, but I couldn’t let her go. I couldn’t. “Not quite that simple. Luke wants the world, the media, my fans to see us as a real life faery tale, King Harry and his Princess Katherine. He essentially wants us to sell ourselves as a storybook romance.”

            “Pretend to be in love with a gorgeous, intelligent, funny, talented, and apparently world-famous actor whom I’m already incredibly fond of… Yeah, I don’t know if I can suffer through that. It sounds horrible, cruel and unusual punishment.” Her gaze fell to my mouth, and she licked her lips, without a second thought, I did the same. “You might call it inhumane even.”

            “Mmm, such suffering,” I growled, crashing my lips to hers, embracing Krys with more passion than I’d felt in years. She brought something out in me that I’d begun to think I’d long lost and ignored its absence, throwing myself into work. If I never sat still long enough to focus on what was missing, I couldn’t truly miss it. But with Krys in my arms, her tongue tasting of chocolate, images of her writhing naked beneath me and screaming my name in ecstasy flooded my mind, and my cock twitched, the desire to make that a reality undeniably strong. Intimacy with someone other than my hand certainly wasn’t a displeasing idea, but it wasn’t the right time, and I pulled back, resting my forehead against hers, both of us breathless, her fingers gripping tightly to my shirt, keeping me close. “I don’t want to rush this.”

            “We met and got engaged on the same day. I’d say we’re well past rushing things,” she whispered, softly kissing me once more.

            “Point taken,” I ceded. “Listen to me, Krys. Pack your things, as much as you can, whatever you need. I’ll clean up in here. But you have to come with me. It’s not safe to stay here for now.”

            Glaring, she pushed, and I quickly backed off a step. “Are you kidding me? What’s wrong with my house?” Her arguing didn’t surprise me one bit. I’d expected it.

            “What’s wrong is that Luke found your home address posted in a fan forum. Apparently, someone followed us when I walked you home earlier.” Despite the horror in her beautiful eyes as she looked up at me, I kept on. “He had the administrator take it down, but there’s no way to know how many people saw it or all the other places in may be on the internet. Krys, best case scenario, a few low-life paps hang around your house, hoping to catch a few photos worth selling. Worst case scenario… Well, ‘fan’ _is_ short for ‘fanatic,’ and there are more than a few absolutely fanatical, potentially dangerous ones among those who claim to be my fans. I can’t risk one of them stalking you and harming you, Krys. I can’t, and I won’t.”

            “So your answer is to have me basically move in with you?”

            Clenching my jaw, I took a moment, not wanting to react harshly. Of course I wanted her with me. I wanted her where I would know she was safe, and I wanted to be the one to keep her safe.

            “If you prefer, I could arrange for you to stay at a hotel and hire someone to provide the necessary personal security.” I couldn’t even look at her as I offered the alternative, only turning back to her when I’d finished and taken a deep breath. “But I have more than enough room in my house. You would have your own bedroom with the privacy of its own en suite. I’m not asking you to move into my house and my room, and share my bed, Krys.” Softly, I added, “Although, I can’t exactly say I’d be opposed to that arrangement, were that _your_ preference.”

            With a sigh, she laid a hand on my chest and looked so deeply into my eyes I’d have sworn she could read my every thought. “I don’t know why, Tom, but as insane as this is, I’ll trust you. Please don’t give me reason to regret doing so.”

            “I’d sooner die.” I didn’t know why either, but I knew I meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple things I thought I'd mention... First, Death by Oreo cupcakes are a totally real thing that are my teenage daughter's baking specialty. She's an outstanding baker, and those damn things are phenomenal. Tom's reaction to them in this fic is basically what I'd imagine his reaction would be to them IRL. Lol. Second, in the realm of sweets, I believe I did warn that this is more of a sweet, romantic, 'love at first sight' kind of fic, so don't expect it to be heavy on the drama, though things will come up, and they'll face bumps in the road. In light of my heart-wrenching, dramatic, FEELS-packed What to Expect When You're Unsuspecting, this is a mental balance for me, tormenting Tom versus not tormenting Tom. I hope that makes sense.
> 
> BTW, rating and tags will be changing soon to accommodate the upcoming 'love scene' chapter that turned to explicit smut, which will definitely lead to more smut, though I'm not a fan of PWP, so don't expect this to turn into a big smutfest. I'd find that boringly tedious to write quite honestly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update today. I've had things going on. Just an FYI, I'm on deadline for line edits on my latest novel with my publisher, so updates could possibly slow down or have a mild break. Currently, this story is written about another 4 chapters ahead, and line edits aren't honestly that difficult to deal with, but still, I thought I should warn you all. There may be a bit of a gap between those 4 chapters being posted next week and the next update because I have to meet a publication deadline as a priority. However, my deadline is March 31st, so even worst case scenario, if it took the entire time (which it shouldn't), I'd be back at it then.

I’m not always a morning person.

            My night had been restless, constant thoughts of Krys’s nearness stirring me from a sound sleep. Every sound rose a sliver of hope she’d sought me out in the dark. Still exhausted, I forewent my usual morning run in favor of a lie in that didn’t do much good, my mind never settling, always focused on Krys.

What I heard that time definitely was her, and I leapt from my bed to brush my teeth in such a mad rush I collided painfully with the door frame, and hurried to the kitchen as quietly as possible. Acting as though I’d been up for a bit already and had begun my morning routine, I had the kettle on and most of the necessities out for a full English Sunday brunch when she entered.

“Oh, I didn’t wake you did I?” I asked casually.

“By sounding like you were destroying your room or by stampeding down the hallway? Because I was up before you did either, so no, you didn’t, but I hope you’re not always that loud. I’m too used to living alone to deal with a roommate who constantly sounds like a herd of buffalo in the house.” Krys stood, arms crossed, inspecting me from head to toe, and I couldn’t resist smirking at her blatant action. “And do you typically leave your room this… unclothed? I mean, not that I’m complaining. Any woman with a pulse and eyesight would appreciate this view, but it does seem a bit bold with a guest in your house, especially a first-time guest you barely know.”

“Huh? Oh...” The blush of my cheeks couldn’t possibly have been brighter if applied by a makeup artist. In my rush to get up and out of my room, I’d not added anything to my typical sleeping attire of boxer shorts. “I didn’t, um… I am so sorry. It wasn’t intentional. Let me go change, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Before I could hurry past her, she grabbed my arm. “Don’t be embarrassed, Tom. You look good… Too good is the problem. I might be inclined to take advantage of you in terribly scandalous ways if you were to remain so inadequately clothed.”

I leaned in, planting a kiss just below her ear. “If that’s the case, perhaps I’ll stay like this,” I growled, and she giggled, shoving me into the hallway.

Approaching the kitchen again in sweats and an old t-shirt, I heard music playing, bringing a smile to my face, knowing she’d wasted no time in turning on the iHome stereo, searching my iPod for something fun. Yet better than hearing the music was the sight in my kitchen, and I was sure, Luke had nothing to fear of Krys’s personality. With seemingly no concern that I would return and see her, she danced shameless in her enthusiasm, whilst searching the cupboards for various things we’d need to cook.

Upon entering, I caught her unawares, wrapped an arm around her waist, and spun us in a crazy circle. Krys screamed when I startled her at first, but quickly fell into us dancing together, both a bit wildly, yet finding a way to complement one another and make it a partnership. By the time the song ended, we were both grinning from ear to ear, eyes locked.

“I’ve never danced with a partner,” I admitted. “Slow dances, yes, but nothing like this. No one wanted to be within reach of my flailing about.”

“Yeah, same here pretty much. I dance around like this with my sister, but never anyone I dated. No one would ever quite cut loose the way I do. They were too concerned about what people might think if they saw them, professional image and all that.” Her smile faltered. “You know how that goes.”

I spun her, so she returned, back to my chest, and rocked us to the beat of the music. “The concern isn’t over keeping my image professional, Krys. My fans know me as the genuine, kind, and playful person my mum raised me to be. Luke worries that anything creating an air of insincerity or dishonesty at such a pivotal point in my career could jeopardize public opinion of me.”

“And continuing to fake an engagement is so terribly sincere and honest.”

Turning Krys to face me, my hands were in her hair and on her lower back, desperately bringing her closer. “Consider it my public declaration of one destination I want as we move forward together. It’s rather terrifying when you think about it, but since I first spoke to you, I haven’t been able to reconcile even the most remote possibility that you would reject me, or in any way, you wouldn’t be part of my future… I’m sorry. That all sounds insane.”

“Not insane, Tom. Intense, yes, but not necessarily insane. My parents eloped barely five weeks after they met, had two children, and were married for forty-two years.”

It was such an abruptly ended story, I couldn’t stand not asking. “And then what?”

“On the way home from dinner to celebrate their forty-second anniversary, a drunk driver ran a red light… He walked away with two cracked ribs. My parents were both pronounced dead at the scene. They loved, they lived, and they died together. What more is there to say?”

“I’m sorry, Krys. I didn’t mean to push, make you tell me if you didn’t want.” All I could do was hold her, hug her tightly, apologizing more in actions than words… Then the song changed, “Unforgettable” being the only sound in the kitchen, the only sound in the house.

“You were humming this at the coffee shop Friday, and I thought it was some pathetically corny attempt at a pick up line.”

I didn’t know if I was more embarrassed or flattered that she remembered not just my humming, but the particular song. “Mostly, it was an attempt to gain your attention that didn’t have quite the results I’d hoped for.”

We’d gone from standing to slowly dancing, food all but forgotten as we grew more absorbed in one another. “Why didn’t you come say something to me two weeks ago, Tom? If you’d asked me out, I wouldn’t have turned you down.”

“Because you’re beautiful, too beautiful, too perfect for me.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’m too beautiful for the gorgeous, worldwide, celebrity, movie star… Sure. Maybe you are insane.”

“No, Krys. Don’t confuse what I do with who I am. The adoration of millions of fans is lovely and all, but I’m still a man, still a person, and I still have my own insecurities. I wasn’t looking across the coffee shop at an adoring fan I knew without a doubt had absolute interest in me. I looked across and saw _my_ vision of perfection, the most beautiful woman in the world to _me_ , a woman I couldn’t stop thinking about, wanted desperately to meet, a woman who didn’t seem to notice or care that I existed.” Closing my eyes for a moment, I shook my head. “It was like adolescence all over again, and it was terrifying… Approaching a woman you’re interested in and don’t know, have no idea how she’ll respond is difficult regardless of who you are and what other people think of you. I only cared what you would think of me.”

“Well, when you put it that way...” Her fingers lightly grazed the hair at the nape of my neck, sending a rush of desire _everywhere_. “All that matters is that we’re here now, right?”

The food may have been forgotten, but the moment, the slow dance in my kitchen, deep kisses even slower, those were unforgettable.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday, but I did warn things may be a little off schedule while I'm dealing with publication deadlines. I'll do my best not to let things slide too much. In the meantime, take heart in the fact that my current deadline is March 31st, so this won't last long!
> 
> On the upside, this is a nice feel-good chapter. Hope you enjoy it! :D

“What exactly does one wear to meet a publicist who’s basically coming to make a critical judgment of you? I mean, you really think jeans, a fitted tee, and Converse are the way to go?” she asked, unimpressed by how casual I was about all of it.

            “Yeah. You look great. No need for you to get all done up when I’m hacking around in jeans and a t-shirt myself.”

            “And those sexy glasses.” Krys smirked.

            “Please… Please don’t make me more self-conscious about them than I already am, Krys. I know they’re terrible.” I’d never considered myself a vain person, but the constant weight of the public eye had made me far more self-aware and self-critical than I had once been.

            “Tom, you are kidding, right?” I halfheartedly glared at her in response. “Tom, I’m serious. Not everyone can pull off glasses, but you definitely can.” She approached me where I sat relaxed in my favorite overstuffed chair, reading the newspaper, and I quickly folded it, setting it aside. “I don’t know about you, Tom,” Krys began, joining me on the chair by straddling my lap, more than a dozen tempting scenarios filling my head at once. “But one day, I’d like to do a little role playing. Those glasses, a button down, and a sport coat, and I’m thinking Professor Hiddleston’s _very_ strict, but I desperately need extra credit and would do _anything_ to earn it.”

            Gripping her thighs firmly, I pulled her flush against me, my self-control waning, my voice a low growl. “Krys…” My lips and teeth found her neck, my hands the bare skin at the hem of her shirt. “Fuck, Krys, I’m trying to be a gentleman, and you’re not making it easy.”

            “I wasn’t trying to, _Thomas_.” Oh, bloody hell. She spoke my name with a breathless sensuality I imagined hearing from her lips when beneath me in bed. Then she sat back and looked me in the eyes. “We promised honesty last night, but I can see in your eyes, that for all you say aloud, there’s more to your actions. The real reason I’m here. The reason I trust you. A reason beyond what you _hope_ to feel in the end… Tell me I’m wrong.”

            I swallowed hard and shook my head. “No… I’m lying to us both to say I don’t believe in love at first sight. I never did… until seeing you changed my perception of everything I thought it meant to fall in love with someone. There’s a quote I recall which says it best. ‘When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.’ You just took a bit longer to smile than I did to fall.”

            “But I did.” Krys placed a feather-light kiss on my lips, stealing my breath and leaving me wanting more. “The author Beau Tamplin says something to the effect of how you can’t measure relationships in months or years, because it’s the caliber of memories that matter; their impact, permanence, and degree to which they change you. You may have relationships lasting years which are eventually all but forgotten, yet another takes mere hours to feel nearly infinite.”

            “Indeed, I feel infinitely more for you than anyone I’ve been with before, Krys.”

            “Then don’t hold back, Tom. I was awake most the night thinking, and no matter how I tried to argue or reason myself out of it, the truth is, I feel the same.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I couldn’t hold her close enough. “It’s all a bit terrifying, to feel so much so quickly, but we have nothing to fear because we’re in it together.”

            “I—” The doorbell interrupted my opportunity for anything beautiful, heartfelt, and deeply romantic. “I know. We’ve got each other. We’ll be fine…I’m so sorry, Krys. That should be Luke.”

            “Yeah, well tell him his timing sucks and to go away for a few hours then come back.” But she’d already climbed off my lap, laughing, good-natured about the madness she found herself in thanks to me. “I’ll go make tea… and yes, I’ll actually bring it out and not hide in the kitchen this time.”

            With barely a greeting, Luke came in like a small tornado of anxiety and words. “The major gossip rags are all over the opportunity to trash you, Tom, itching at the chance to crumble the pedestal of your spotless reputation. It’s everything from an affair with Lizzie during filming that caused her broken engagement to that affair _and_ you boldly carrying on with her while secretly in a committed relationship, keeping both of them in the dark about the other and expecting your perfect ‘Prince Charming’ persona to protect you. The primary accusation is that your insistence on keeping your personal life out of the public eye is to, and I quote, “keep Mr. Perfect’s manwhoring ways on the down low.” And I’ll tell you, Tom, the rallying anti-Hiddles camp doesn’t get any friendlier from there.”

            “I’ll speak with Lizzie. Krys and I will see her at TIFF, and I’m sure we’ll manage to settle the matter then, Luke. Don’t get so worked up over nothing.” Just as we took seats in the lounge, I heard the kettle whistling. “Tea will be here shortly… And before she brings it, the most important matter at hand…” I waited a moment without a response. “Oh, fuck. Luke, you did get the ring, didn’t you? You said you’d handle it.”

            “Yeah, yeah. It’s right here.” He pulled the blue Tiffany’s box from his pocket, the white ribbon nearly untied in his haphazard handling of it. “When you said ‘most important matter’ I thought you must’ve meant something else, and couldn’t think which matter was more critical than another. I had to pull a few strings to get that on such short notice, and on a Sunday… and I hope you don’t mind, but you’re out near on fifty thousand pounds for this engagement charade.”

            First setting the ribbon to rights, I held the box in my hand, imagining what I would say to Krys, the way I would ask her, and the look in her eyes when I did. “I honestly could not care less about the price.”

            “Tom, you’ve been dating her for a day… Two weeks creeping on her don’t count,” he replied sternly, using his best ‘behave yourself, Thomas’ tone I’d heard hundreds, if not thousands of times.

            “From hours to infinities, Luke. There are simply some things in the world which no unit of preconceived notion can measure.”

            “Oh, that’s golden, Tom. That’s exactly what fans and the media need to hear. They need swoonworthy, romantic, Shakespeare-quoting, believer-in-true-love Tom. Fate, destiny, soulmates, faery tale come true, feel free to drop any of those key words and phrases during interviews, but it’s got to be convincing, Oscar-worthy performances, Tom.”

            Luke’s expression was dead serious, and I was appalled by his nerve. “I understand you want to uphold my reputation for the sake of my career, but asking me to put on such an act, treat my integrity like rubbish is going too far. That’s not damage control. That’s turning me into someone I’m not.”

            In that tense moment, Krys entered with a tea tray, serving it politely with grace and ease, not a hint of nerves regarding Luke’s presence, and once she finished, I motioned for her to sit beside me, my arm around her, holding her so close she was nearly seated on me. I would not have minded were it not for our guest.

            “Krys, this is my publicist Luke.” Between my hold on her and the daggers of warning I glared at him, they settled for waving at each other rather than shaking hands. “And Luke, this is my unofficial, yet soon-to-be official fiancée Krys.” Their greetings were slightly awkward, more on Luke’s side than Krys’s, but she’d missed the conversation creating the low rumble of hostility in the room.

            “If you prefer, Tom, I can notify the media that questions regarding your personal life are off-limits, and you simply walk away from anyone who refuses to play by the rules. We’ll give ample opportunities for photo ops with the two of you and work something out with Lizzie. I’ll coordinate with her publicist beforehand.”

            Glancing between the two of us, Krys’s eyes narrowed. “Tom…” It was clearly a question.

            “Luke is under the misconception that I need to lie about my feelings for you, our feelings for each other during interviews in order to win over the media and reassure fans.” Boldly, I turned to her, cupped her cheek in my hand, and kissed her passionately. As Luke’s jaw undoubtedly fell to the floor. Then with one last chaste kiss on the lips and a kiss on the tip of her nose, I turned back to Luke, still holding Krys close. “He’s completely overlooked the possibility that there is no lie to be told.”

            “But—”

            “No. I can handle the interviews, Luke. I’m perfectly fine… There’s only one small detail I must attend to.” Reaching behind the pillow beside me, opposite Krys, I pulled out the Tiffany’s box, and held it in front of her. “Go ahead. Open it.”

            She looked at me, our eyes locked for a moment that seemed like hours then slowly took it from my hand, holding her breath as she untied the ribbon. I could see her hands shake as she lifted the lid, and wondered if nerves or excitement had the better of her. When she slipped the black ring box from the decorative blue Tiffany’s box, I swiped it from her hand with a mischievous grin.

            “You didn’t honestly think I’d just let you open it and put your engagement ring on yourself, did you? I’m doing this, Krys, and I’m doing it the right way.” Releasing my hold on her, I slipped off the couch and onto one knee, seeing her eyes water immediately. And I had an annoying feeling Luke had his phone out either taking a video or photos, but I ignored him. “Some would say this is crazy. I should be in a suit and tie, you in a lovely dress. And we should be at a posh restaurant or romantic locale… But they don’t know us. Crazy is what we do best together, and comfortable is what we are with one another, so a lazy Sunday afternoon, lounging around the house is the most perfect setting I could ever imagine doing this.”

Krys was full-on crying by that point, and I had to wipe my own tears away. “In a look and a smile, we found love, and what others may measure in merely hours gave us sight of our infinities.” I opened the ring box, but her eyes never left mine to see what it held. “Krys, you are my infinity, and I want to be yours, so I’m asking you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

She was crying so hard, she could barely whisper a ‘yes’ but nodded adamantly as she slid from the couch and into my arms, shaking and crying to the point I could barely get the ring on her finger, and we were both a mess of tears and laughter at what a sight we must’ve been.

“I love you, future Mrs. Hiddleston.” It was the first time I’d said the words aloud, I realized, said them _after_ proposing, but I supposed it didn’t matter. She knew beforehand, though I couldn’t say how, somehow, we both knew from the start.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting yesterday, but I'm trying to make the chapters I have written ahead last longer while I'm dealing with publication deadlines. I'm not really trying to torture you all no matter how much it may feel like it.
> 
> Just an FYI, chapter 12 (next chapter) will be the last one going up before the rating changes from Teen to Mature and additional tags are added. So, for those of you looking forward to smut, you can guess when to expect it. For those of you looking for a warning to know when to skim over things, I'll make a note of it at the beginning of chapter 13.

“How’d the conversation go with Trys? She’s not going to fly over here and kill me is she?” I asked as Krys appeared in the bedroom doorway.

            “She was more pissed off that I didn’t call her last night, but I was brain fried after the day we had then you texted and all of that, I just totally forgot. So I got reamed for that minor oversight. But once I finally had a chance to talk and told her who you are besides ‘Good Samaritan Tom’ as she kept calling you, her entire attitude changed.” Krys came over and plopped down on the bed next to me, wearing a sly grin.

“Although I somehow missed the international phenomenon known as ‘Tom Hiddleston,’ apparently my sister did not. She completely flipped shit and started talking a hundred miles an hour about Hiddlestoners, Nerd HQ, Korea, snake hips, Tompocalypse, and asked if I’d seen your ‘Loki’ yet. I’m not sure I even want to know what that’s supposed to mean, but she said you basically rule Tumblr to the point they call it ‘Tomblr’ with countless blogs solely dedicated to you. Then she started in on the existence of fan fiction written about you, and I just told her to shut the fuck up, I want to know _nothing_.” I tried not to laugh. It could be traumatizing, yet amusing. “Anyway, I texted her a pic of the ring, and she wanted to know if it’s okay to post on her Tumblr. I told her Luke said to go totally public, so I didn’t think it would be a problem, but I’d text her back after I talked to you.”

“My mum and sisters know now.” I waved the phone in my hand. “They took it quite well and sounded rather excited. Mum said to come over earlier than usual for dinner, and I’m relatively sure Emma will come armed with a suitcase full of bridal magazines. From the sound of it, she’d already mentally planned the entire event by the time we hung up.” Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes and sighed. “If we’ve covered immediate family then I suppose tell Trys to go for it. I’d imagine Luke will love that.”

“There’s just one other thing she asked…” Krys sounded terribly hesitant, something she hadn’t yet been with me, and I took her hand in mine, pulling her closer. “She wants us to take a selfie and send her to post with the ring pic. As my sister, she thinks she should have ‘exclusives’ to post.”

Laughing, I kissed her cheek. “And as your sister, she should, but let’s not take it in our bedroom. We need some things that are ours alone.”

“ _Our_ bedroom, Thomas?”

“Oh, um, I… I just…” Clearing my throat first, I began again. “I want this living arrangement to be permanent, Krys. You here with me. But I don’t want you across the hall. I want you right _here_ with me. Always.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay, Tom. I’ll move in here… Now where do you want to take that selfie?” Krys hopped up, taking my hand with her, tugging me along. “The lighting would be better in the living room… or maybe outside. What do you think?”

I thought I must’ve imagined how easily she agreed to moving in with me. “The garden would be good… You’re really okay with moving in? No questions. No hesitation. No argument.”

Leading the way through the house to the garden, Krys explained. “Tom, it makes sense, so there’s no reason to fight it. When we get married, we’d live here, certainly not the place I’m renting. And with the schedule Luke laid out for the next few months, it’d be ridiculous for me to keep living there. I’d never be there, and when we are home, why would I want to spend our downtime running between the two houses, trying to catch up on bills, housecleaning, unpacking, repacking, and… Well, you get it, right? I can take my work with me as we travel, but the more time I’m wasting with that sort of stuff, the more likely I’ll never get any work done. No work. No money.”

Once we were outside, I held fast, standing my ground, causing her to turn around in surprise, and I grasped her shoulders gently, eyes on hers. “Krys, never worry over money. Focus on _your_ writing, and quit the freelance editing. _That_ is a waste of your time. Reach for your dreams, and let me take care of everything else. Let me take care of you.” Running my fingers through her hair, I leant down, kissing her soundly. “Please, Krys. I love you. Just let me.”

“Money has nothing to do with love. I’m perfectly capable of being independent. I don’t need you taking care of me, Thomas.” She had a small frown I wanted to kiss into a smile.

“And I’m not arguing any of that. You’re absolutely right on all three points, but I’m not offering you money in exchange for love, insinuating you cannot take care of yourself, or in any way trying to make you dependent on me. I have the means to support us both significantly well, and want to see you reach for your dreams, keep writing your novels, and see if you can get them published. This isn’t me asking to take care of you because I think you can’t, Krys. This is me doing everything possible to encourage you and support you in achieving your dreams. That’s what you do for someone you love.”

“I just don’t want people thinking I’m some gold digger.”

I shrugged. “It was my idea, and I’ll admit it. You had an interest in writing, and I encouraged you to pursue that rather than remain employed… with the added benefit that it allows you the most flexibility to work around my schedule, attend events, travel with me on press tours, and stay with me on location when I’m filming. I’ll take the blame for being selfish and lovesick, unable to take the stress of being away from you.”

 “Wow.” She was in a fit of giggles, which overflowed to me. “That’s pretty pathetic. You need to come up with something else before someone actually asks.”

            When I pointed the phone’s camera at us, we were all smiles, the picture of happiness, arms around each other, her left hand on my chest, diamonds radiantly sparkling in the sunlight. I couldn’t say how many photos I took of us then, us smiling, us laughing, us kissing… us simply in love, but they were the first photos of Krys and I together that _we_ took, and I wanted to capture everything we were in that moment.

            “Alright, so we’re settled on these five?” Krys asked, casually walking into the master en suite while I was styling my ridiculous hair.

            “Yeah. I think so.” I answered before checking her phone again. “Oh, no no. God no, not that one. Look at the glare on my forehead. It makes it look twice as big as it already is. And ugh, no. That angle worsens my receding hairline. Take those two off, and just send the other three.”

            “Whatever. Wouldn’t want to ruin your ‘sexiest man alive’ image with two moderately not-great photos on Tumblr.” But for all her teasing, she deleted them before sending the text to Trys and leaning against the wall to watch me. “How much longer are you going to be? I’m done getting ready, and you’re still primping in the mirror.”

            In one swift move, I had her pinned between my body and the wall, lips on her neck, hands roaming to inch the skirt of her dress further and further up. “I’m taking the woman I’m going to marry home to meet my mum. Her dragging out the camera and fussing over me to appear put together enough for photos she’ll undoubtedly frame should be expected. Give me two more minutes.” Trailing kisses from her collarbone to beneath her ear, I exhaled slowly and finished low and soft. “Or we will be terribly late, and I am quite sure I will not be acting alone in causing that, darling.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I received some commentary on the previous chapter for Krys essentially "giving up everything to become Tom's lapdog," I thought I should clarify a few points. 1) This is fan fic. I don't write using an outline, beta readers, or do multiple revisions to smooth out details that come off as rough once a first draft is finished. You're basically getting a first draft, so don't expect a perfectly written story. Things I'd normally have revised to make sure were out of my head and in the story to be clear to readers aren't necessarily there in a first draft. 2) Krys has only been in the UK for a few months, is renting a house, doing freelance editing, and trying to write her own novels in her spare time with the hope of getting published. Everything with Tom may seem like a bit of a 'fairy tale romance' in many ways, but she's making compromises to be there for him, and he wants to do something for her as well. Saving the wasted money of renting (which anyone who's ever rented rather than bought a home knows the frustration of sinking money into something that isn't an actual investment), dropping the frustrating work of freelance editing that she's only doing to pay bills while REALLY wanting to make a go of writing, and having the opportunity to write full time isn't her giving up her independence to become Tom's lapdog. He's offering her the chance to spend her free time devoting herself to focusing on achieving her own dreams just as he's been fortunate enough to do, rather than waste more of her life putting that in the background in favor of a job she's not thrilled about doing but does because it brings in a paycheck. - Love is about compromise, and Tom understands what he's asking of her to be with him. He wants to do for her as well, even if she never asked him for it. Yes, he makes a joke about it being because he wants her with him all the time, but that was AFTER they'd already discussed the realistic advantages of such an arrangement. It's beneficial to them both... though Tom may sometimes have to chill in hotel rooms when he'd rather be doing other things if she's inspired to write and on a roll. He can ask my husband how that goes, being the primary income while your wife is focused on writing and becoming second place to the writing at times. I don't feel any less independent just because my husband provides the stable income while I'm struggling to break out as a writer. I feel loved and supported by my partner. Please don't judge the situation without a bit more consideration for what it would be like to be in those particular circumstances. Perhaps I didn't do the scene justice to clarify just how much she honestly felt he was giving her compared to what she was giving up, but the good outweighs the bad, and Tom isn't one to keep anyone caged if they aren't happy with how things end up going. He'd give her as much independence as she needed if she felt stifled at any point. Give him a little credit for not being a sexist dick.
> 
> As much as I appreciate people following and reading my fics, if it rubs you the wrong way, and you're no longer happy reading it, I'm sure there are other fics on the site you may find more to your liking. Thank you for reading this far, and maybe we'll hit it off better with another story. No hard feelings. You can't please everyone all the time. I try to address comments with reader issues, questions, or anything needing clarification on development gaps I may have left, but not everyone is okay with reading a story and having to ask a few questions here and there. To each their own.
> 
> END RANT.
> 
> For those of you still with me, I hope you're continuing to enjoy the mostly fluffy, sweet, fairy-tale-esque story with very little grounding in reality because escapism is the name of the game. FYI, line edits are going well, and another plot bunny has bitten me and taken up residence in a new Word document. I'm to the point of banging my head against my keyboard. Oh, and if anyone would like to find me elsewhere online, I'm on Instagram as macpetreshock too. Lots of cat pics, coffee pics, and misc stuff. Pop by and say 'hi' over there!

“Of course you drive a Jag… and do Jag commercials… and they gave you the fucking car because you’re so amazing in their commercials.” I simply grinned as she ranted. Honestly, I adored how ridiculous she found the extravagance of what my life had become. Many days, I awoke and couldn’t believe what my own life had become, someone to share that amazement with was what I wanted, not a woman expectant of ostentatious luxuries. “Jesus, Tom, this thing has so many bright lights and control panels, I feel like I’d need to go to NASA’s space flight school before I could ever get behind the wheel… This is insane.”

            “You’re overthinking it, sweetheart. It’s really quite intuitive, and you’ll take to it in no time. We’ll go out driving one day this week, somewhere outside the city, and give you a chance to get comfortable with it.”

            “That’s cute, but no.”

            “Krys, darling, you don’t have a car, and I want to know that if I weren’t home and a situation arose, you wouldn’t hesitate to take this car because you’d be familiar with it already.” I dared a glance over to find her jaw firmly set. “Just humor me, and lessen my worry.”

            “You’re just being silly, but if it’ll make you feel better, fine.” The way she lolled her head lazily onto her shoulder and grinned sent a breathtaking rush through me. “You have the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, Tom. Know that you don’t have to give me things or do things for me like this to keep me. I fell for you before I realized you were more than a small time theater and BBC actor, who may or may not have been actually supporting himself off his acting gigs alone.” Her expression turned serious as she sat upright in the seat. “And I’m completely willing to sign any prenup you might want in order to protect your assets… Just so you know I’m not here with you for any of that.”

            I gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, foot perhaps a tad heavier on the pedal than before.

            “Tom? Tom… Thomas!” Krys shrieked, jolting me out of my daze and back to reality where I was dangerously speeding, and clearly frightening her. “What the fuck, Tom?”

            “No prenup,” I stated firmly.

            “You decided to go Speed Racer with this little toy of yours and risk getting us killed because I offered to sign a prenup? Are you out of your mind?”

            Taking three deep, calming breaths, I gathered my thoughts, and put my feelings into words. “Krys, I didn’t intend to frighten you. I’m sorry… And it wasn’t your offer to do such I find bothersome, rather everything I feel prenuptial agreements represent. It’s a carefully planned legal documentation effectively stating that you’re entering a marriage with the process for executing its end already prepared. For years, I’ve shied away from the idea of marriage, no matter how much I do want the traditional wife, kids, and a dog home life, because I suffered through life as a child of divorce, and didn’t want to replay that as an adult… Be the husband, the father in such a scenario.”

            We were nearing Mum’s house, and I slowed. Krys remained silent, staring at her hands in her lap. “I know what I feel, Krys. I know I love you. I know I cannot picture a future without you in it, and haven’t been able to since I first laid eyes on you. I will not sign papers that say I don’t believe in us, because when I say ‘till death do us part,’ it will be with the utmost sincerity, a solemn vow I don’t take lightly and will be words never spoken by me to any other.”

            As we arrived at my mum’s and parked the car, I shut off the engine, yet didn’t move to exit, instead, taking Krys’s hand, gently kissing her fingers, and acting as if to ensure the ring were still on properly, memorizing the sight and the sense of joy it gave me. “Do you understand, love?” She nodded, smiling tenderly. “Then we won’t discuss the subject again?”

            “Never again… Now on to more terrifying topics… Time to meet my future in-laws.” Her exaggerated grin and eye roll, as if it would truly be horrible, certainly leveled the intensity that had developed within the car. “We should get in there before your mum thinks we’re making out like horny teenagers or something.”

            “Well, if you’d—” Flipping me the bird, Krys hopped out of the car, quite decidedly answering that. However, she did have the better idea. Mum _would_ have come to drag us out if we didn’t come willingly soon enough.

            Bringing Krys into my mum’s home was a categorically different experience than bringing any other girl with whom I’d ever been romantically involved. For those occasions, Mum reserved a stiff upper lip, proper English decorum, and cool detachment, not wishing to grow attached too early, or at all, when the relationship’s likelihood of permanence held firmly at none, and she knew it, as she knew me all-too well.

            There were no such formalities or reservations any longer.

            Our arrival was met with a bombardment of greetings from Mum and Emma, hugs, squealing, bouncing, high-pitched exclamations at the sight of the engagement ring, and in under five minutes, I’d been left in the foyer. Alone.

            Curious, and annoyed they’d seemingly forgotten about me, I followed the giggles and girlish chatter into the lounge, finding Krys flanked by my mum and sister with a plethora of bridal magazines spread before them on the coffee table. Per my expectations, Emma had indeed come prepared to plan the entire affair.

            “Have you chosen a date yet? Or at least a season? We can narrow down a great deal of options based on that alone.” Em directed her interrogation toward Krys, who looked immediately at me for assistance, and I joined the wedding planning party in the nearest chair.

            “We haven’t. You do realize the engagement happened only earlier today, right, Em? But we can discuss things now, however much Krys wants to work on, and then set it aside for another day.” I hoped my response pleased all parties involved.

            Mum smiled warmly at me. “Thomas, dear, do you have a preference regarding the type of service? A traditional church wedding or a civil service? Location will play a critical role in the planning as well.”

            Eyes locked on Krys’s, somehow I could read the answer on her face, in absolute agreement with my own. “We do know that much, definitely a civil service.” Relief washed over Krys’s face, and she rewarded me with a small smile.

            “And if Tom doesn’t mind, I’d like to get married in September.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, and my sense of worry grew exponentially. “My parents were married then and had a wonderfully happy forty-two years together. Since they’re gone, it just seems like a nice way to honor their memory and hopefully get a bit of their marital bliss luck.” Krys finally looked back to me. “You don’t mind waiting over a year, do you?”

            “September’s only a couple weeks away, sweetheart. Why wait a year when we could do it next month?” I heard Mum’s gasp and Emma’s squeal, but my focus remained entirely on Krys. “You said you’d marry me. Why make me wait?”

            “Tom, are you serious? With your schedule? Luke will have so many panic attacks, the poor guy’ll have a nervous breakdown.” At least she hadn’t said no.

            “You’re not being realistic, Thomas. As fanciful and romantic as the idea may be, Krys is American, and the paperwork the two of you will require certainly isn’t going to pass through the red tape that quickly,” Mum insisted, but I shook my head, grinning.

            “That’s where you’re wrong, Mum. Her mother was American, but her father was a British diplomat at the embassy in Washington and ensured both Krys and her sister held dual citizenship. The same laws of marriage apply to her that apply to any other citizen of the UK.”

            Emma nearly bounced off the couch, leaping for joy. “Sweet! Let’s do this!”

            “Thomas, you’ll be the death of me yet… Thankfully, you’re my only son, and I love you dearly.” I think my mother swore at me under her breath. “You’ll have to go to the registrars office tomorrow to apply for your license, because there’s a fifteen day waiting period from the day you receive it to the day you can actually be married, and don’t you have the film festival around the eleventh or so?”

            We were all pulling out phones and checking calendars. “We’ll need to check online to be sure we have exactly what we need, Tom. If we get the license tomorrow, that’ll put the first day we could possibly get married as what… the ninth?” Krys and I exchanged a tense glance. “And aren’t we supposed to fly to Toronto early the next morning?”

            “Um… yes. So how do you feel about getting married on a Wednesday? The ninth day of the ninth month sounds as though it could be some omen of good fortune.” I was grasping at straws, but she was right, the rest of the month didn’t look much better.

            “Luke’s going to have a stroke, Tom.”

            “I’m sure he will, Krys.”

            “Trys has to be here for it, Tom.”

            “I promise I’ll make it happen, Krys.”

            “Then I have no valid argument against this crazy idea, Tom.”

            “Crazy _is_ what we do best together, Krys. Why turn boring now?”

            As three of the most important women in my life huddled together, compiling a list of necessary details to be seen to before the expedited wedding, I sat back and watched with a sense of satisfaction.

I knew what I’d always feared, what held me back in past relationships, why I never let them go too far or last too long.

Then Krys.

With one look, she changed everything. My every insecurity magnified in her presence until the moment we connected. And then she became the very meaning of comfort, and home.

I did not simply fall in love with Krys. She became my definition of both the act and the feeling. With Krys, when faced with all I feared in the past, I felt fearless.

And so I didn’t concern myself with anyone else’s perception of the sanity of our actions. Never had I felt more resolute in any decisions I’d made in all my life.

Yes, for two weeks, I simply watched Krys, wanting to speak with her but too afraid the wrong approach would ruin any chance of the future I could see with her. Yes, we technically dated one day. And yes, I did, in all truthfulness, propose to her the second day. On the third day, we would apply for our marriage license, and sixteen days later, we would be married, leaving the following day to begin a hectic schedule of multiple film release promotions.

Yes, that was the plan, and I felt exceptionally satisfied with the path my life had taken.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***NOTICE TO ALL READERS***  
> This chapter contains explicit sexual content. Due to this, the story has been changed from a Teen rating to a Mature rating with additional tags to warn of such content. 
> 
> If you want to continue reading the story but wish to avoid explicit content, I will include warnings in order to allow you to skim past these parts. Don't worry, this story will not become smut-laden with chapter after chapter of explicit content, but sex scenes will sometimes be included. Should you want to avoid reading the explicit stuff, once Tom 'accidentally' wakes Krys up, I'd advise you don't actually read the rest of the chapter. The general gist is that they have sex for the first time, and it's rather kinky. Wait for the next chapter for more non-explicit reading.
> 
> IF YOU LIKE THE SMUTTY SMUT SMUT...  
> This chapter contains the smut. This smut contains dirty talk, rough sex, and dominant/submissive play. Enjoy.

That night I barely slept, not for restlessness but rather excitement. Despite a great debate taking us from Mum’s back home, Krys had moved into _our_ bedroom. She argued that with such a short wait until our wedding, we could at least be traditional in the matter of not sharing a bed beforehand. I held firm on how nontraditional everything about us was and admitted how much I felt the need to have her close.

            As I eased the Jaguar into the garage, I relented. “Would you be amenable to a compromise?” Warily, Krys nodded. “If we remain chaste until marriage, would you at least move into the room and sleep in the bed with me?”

            And so I found myself with Krys in what had long been _my_ bed but would, from there on out, be _ours_. My arms around her, keeping her close, as if she were a dream to be gone when I opened my eyes, I lay still, not wanting to wake her, though I was far from asleep.

            Some might think I’d second guess the decisions I’d made when I had such quiet to let my mind wander, to consider what a commitment I’d made, but I didn’t. Being with Krys felt right. Everything about us did. But to say I wasn’t overwhelmed would be a lie.

            I’d never been a selfish person, but I’d lived on my own for quite some time, everything being mine alone, with only myself to consider in most choices I made. Marriage impacts circumstances such as that. Permanently.

            _Permanently._

I’d settle for nothing less. A flash of anger coursed through me at the thought of Krys offering to sign a prenup. I knew marriage wouldn’t be purely romance and happiness. Positive outlook or not, I am realistic and know it takes effort to make it work. Nothing is perfect, not even love, but I could see with perfect clarity that my future included Krys every step of the way, basking in the glorious heights side-by-side and traversing the darkened valleys hand-in-hand.

However, as much as I looked forward to the changes in my life, they required massive alterations in my general lifestyle, attitude, and outlook. My bedroom, my home, my personal space, my privacy, my refuge from being a celebrity were all ours. My solitude had become something shared.

But as John Donne observed, mankind is not meant to be alone.

 _No man is an island,_ __  
Entire of itself,  
Every man is a piece of the continent,  
A part of the main.  
If a clod be washed away by the sea,  
Europe is the less.  
As well as if a promontory were.  
As well as if a manor of thy friend's  
Or of thine own were:  
Any man's death diminishes me,  
Because I am involved in mankind,  
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;   
It tolls for thee.

 

            Perhaps that’s why the suddenness of falling in love with Krys didn’t frighten me the way it may have even a matter of a year before. Coming up on my thirty-fifth birthday had me reflecting on what I’d truly accomplished. Certainly more than I’d dared hope for as an actor, I couldn’t complain a word regarding my professional achievements, simply to have worked with the extraordinary people I had.

Yet as I neared thirty-five, forty wasn’t getting any further off, and the chasm of emptiness in my life weighed heavily. My home had become the house of a solitary man, too large and too quiet. I could close my eyes and imagine myself with a family, a family which remained nameless and faceless and out of my reach.

And I felt alone.

I held Krys there in the dark, in _our_ bed, and peppered her shoulder with feather-light kisses, thanking whatever higher power existed for setting us to collide. No longer was I alone. Finally, I’d found her, the one, the love of my life.

“What are you doing awake?” Krys asked drowsily, and I felt terrible I’d accidentally disturbed her sleep, but she rolled over, looking up at me through thick lashes, hair splayed wildly around her, full lips slightly parted.

And I acted on my first thought.

Despite our agreement made in the car, she didn’t rebuff my advance, hands on my neck and shoulder, pulling me in, kissing me harder, teeth grazing my lower lip, eliciting sounds long dormant from me and igniting a passionate need seemingly unfelt in ages. Rolled so Krys was beneath me as I’d imagined many times before, she hitched one leg over my hip, rocking her hips into me, a silent plea for more contact, and I obliged, thrusting to meet her desire. Clothing of little consequence, I could feel her heat and knew she could feel how hard I was for her.

Slipping a hand beneath her shirt, her moan against my mouth and nails on my back frayed my already tenuous control. “God, Krys, tell me to stop. Say you don’t want this.” She bucked her hips into me again, making me harder, if that were physically possible. “Fuck… Krys… I mean it… Aahh, Jesus, you’re killing me,” I barely choked out as Krys sensually bit my neck, just below my ear. My greatest weakness. “Say it. Say it now, and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t… Don’t stop.” I needed little encouragement and had her shirt off without another word, her shorts mostly off before she breathlessly spoke again. “Oh, god, Tom, I want you.” My boxers were tossed on the floor with her clothes, and I dove in, suckling one nipple while teasing her entrance with my fingers. “No, Tom… I want you. I _need_ you. Fuck me.” She spread her legs wide, her cunt invitingly wet and waiting. “Fuck me _now_. Fuck me _hard_. I wanna come on your cock, _screaming your name_.”

I only hesitated a moment before ramming my cock into her without mercy, thrusting forcefully, and setting a punishing pace. My mum would die to ever learn of my proclivities in the bedroom, but my soon-to-be-wife needed to know exactly how I liked it before saying ‘I do’ to me. Krys had to learn one way or another that I preferred it rough and dirty, dominating a woman who knew how to be a lady, a woman I respected, but a woman who could behave like a dirty little, cum-hungry slut in the bedroom to satisfy my carnal desires.

My god, she was perfect, dirty-mouthed and loud, moaning and crying out my name, begging for it harder and saying how good it felt as I fucked her relentlessly. Hooking an arm under her leg, I lifted her sweet ass off the bed, ramming a pillow beneath her, providing a whole new angle then sat back on my heels, pushing her legs wide apart to admire the view, relishing in the noises of disappointment she made at the sudden absence of my cock from within her.

“Oh, my bad, bad girl, do you need me to give you something?” I received a whimper in reply and smacked her pussy sharply, gaining an excited yet incoherent moan. “Answer me when I ask you a question, Krys. Does my dirty little darling understand?”

“Yes.” She was breathless and needy.

Another sharp smack. The sounds of heightened arousal in her moans. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir… I need your cock, please, sir.”

My god, she knew exactly how to submit. And I rewarded her, slamming my hard cock inside her once again, rolling my hips with each deep thrust, attending to her sensitive, swollen clit and driving Krys towards the edge of sanity from the sounds of it. Fuck she was so close… With the first spasm of her cunt, I lost it. “Come for me, Krys. Come for me now!”

And she did, clenching tightly around my cock so hard I could barely hear the way she screamed my name past the euphoric rush as I powered lustfully toward my own release… Three. Four… Fucking hell, it hit me like lightning and shook me like thunder, coming with a roaring intensity that left tears stinging my eyes and my heart pounding.

Regaining some sensibility as I shook off the lightheadedness, I gathered Krys into my arms, rolling her with me, holding her close, relieved when she curled into my side and rested her head on my chest. “Are you alright, love? I didn’t hurt you did I.” A pang of guilt hit me. “It wasn’t my intention to break our agreement. I meant it when I promised you I’d wait, Krys.”

“It’s okay,” she replied softly, fingertips dancing through the hair on my chest. “The waiting wasn’t for the reason you would’ve assumed anyway… So really, don’t worry.”

“Honestly, that worries me more. If not to uphold traditions, then why? I think I deserve an answer.” I kept my voice quiet, tone gentle, nothing demanding, yet in roughly two weeks’ time, she’d be my wife, and I wanted to _know_ she would talk with me.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked me in the eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way when I say it… I wanted to avoid any frustration with difficulties in the bedroom until after we were married… After that, I thought maybe you’d be more open-minded and willing to try new things because being married would mean less to fear of making a mistake and scaring me off…” I was confused, and she laughed. “Tom, you’ve been so sweet and romantic, and such a gentleman, I didn’t expect you’d be any different in bed… But I prefer it rough. I get off on talking dirty and being fucked hard by a man who takes control.”

“And here I was afraid of scaring you off, needing to show you what you were getting into before it was too late.”

“Hardly.” She leaned over and bit my nipple, causing me to inhale sharply. “The way you kissed me tonight was so demanding and intense. It was what I wanted from you, and I needed to know how far you’d take it… Although, I admit you’re more into the dominant/submissive roleplay than I’m used to, I liked it and am willing to follow your lead in that.”

“Mmm, darling, I will take great pleasure in teaching you exactly what I want.” Placing her hand on my hardened cock, delighted by how quickly she began stroking its length, I kissed her soundly, tugging her bottom lip with my teeth. “And I do believe your second lesson begins right now, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd greatly appreciate if you'd check out the first two chapters of a new story I posted, "Once Upon a Cuppa" another Tom romance, very different from this. If you read it, please leave comments. Thanks!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Total fluff ahead.
> 
> Comments and feedback appreciated! Thanks for following and reading! :-)

“And she knows this part does _not_ go public?” I couldn’t stress that enough, worried of the strain fan interference could put on Krys over the next two weeks if they were to learn the wedding date we’d set.

“Trust me, I made it abundantly clear, and as my sister, the last thing Trys wants to do is rile up your fandom in a way that might not be good for me.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, though honestly, I knew it was a silly thing to worry over, trusting her sister would keep her best interests at heart. However, our day had been hectic and wasn’t due to slow down. Emma and our mum had dealt with phone calls to ensure the locations we’d chosen for the ceremony and reception were available and the date reserved, and all went relatively smoothly at the registars office. I was exceedingly glad we didn’t wait any longer once I discovered policies were about to change the wait from fifteen days to twenty-eight, which wouldn’t work for us with my schedule. I wanted to be part of the planning of my wedding, not simply hear about it via phone, text, or emails while traveling.

Choosing wedding bands at Tiffany’s had been uneventful, I wanted something elegantly classic, opting for the ultimately traditional gold band, despite the saleswoman declaring that ‘a man of my status’ should have something _more_. The platinum and diamond ring coordinating with Krys’s existing engagement ring satisfied her just fine, purchasing a traditionally simple band of white gold to wear when we weren’t out, and she didn’t feel the need to have on ‘quite so much bling’ as she explained.

The stop at Prosper PR was somewhat less uneventful, beginning with running into Emma Watson as soon as we entered the office building. She was the first of my friends I’d spoken to since the engagement happened, and I was admittedly a bit taken aback by how enthusiastic her congratulations were, insisting she truly hoped to be invited to the wedding, which we promised she would be, and telling us how perfectly adorable we are together. Were it someone else, I may have thought it were a matter of indulging me for the sake of professional courtesy and goodwill, but Emma and I always got on too well for her to be so falsely happy if she held any reservations about it.

Luke was a whole other story.

“Please tell me this is some elaborate joke, Tom.” My publicist awaited the laughter and admission of such a ruse to no avail. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, are you trying to kill me? Do you hate me that much, Tom? I thought we were friends,” Luke ranted, taking his frustrations out on his keyboard as he typed. “The ninth at two o’clock? Alright, it’s on my schedule.”

“That’s lovely, but maybe I wasn’t planning to invite you.” Smirking, I ducked as his pen came flying at me, Krys giggling at the two of us. She’d decided Luke wasn’t quite so bad as she’d feared, and I spared telling her what transpired between us when he’d first arrived at the house to meet her. It was in everyone’s best interests if they got on, and unnecessary to hurt her with his previous misconceptions of us.

“I’m going to assume you’re at least joking about that… We’ll keep this as quiet as possible beforehand, but I’m thinking we go with ELLE or Vogue for an exclusive on the wedding… Please do tell me that you’re not just doing it at the registrar’s office in jeans and t-shirts. If you’re not giving anyone time to savor the tantalizing news of your engagement first, we need a fashion magazine-worthy wedding at least.”

Grimacing, I ran my fingers through my hair and gave Krys an apologetic look, thankful she seemed to have more patience with the meeting than I was at the moment. “Sometimes, Luke, you never cease to terrify me with the way your mind works… However, to answer your question, this may be fast, but by no means low-brow. Ceremony at the Old Palace at Bromley Civic Centre, reception at Eltham Lodge. Emma’s made arrangements with Madeline Gardner for a dress, and Ralph Lauren guaranteed they’ll meet my needs. The wedding planner from Eltham promises she can work miracles with flowers and decorating no matter what the time constraints, so long as the budget allows, and that’s not a problem.”

I took Krys’s hand in mine, squeezing it as I gave her a smile. She’d thought I was crazy to suggest getting married so quickly, but I promised I’d still give her the wedding of her dreams, regardless. She told me as long as I was there to say ‘I do,’ it would be. Surely she wishes for more than just that; it’d be crazy to think she didn’t, but then again, if she weren’t just a tad bit crazy, I’d likely still be alone, not madly in love with her and planning our wedding.

“Then do you have a preference for ELLE or Vogue? With how much they both love you, either one will scramble all over themselves to get the exclusive on your wedding, so I have no doubt we have our pick.” And that made Luke more than a little smug.

“ELLE,” I answered without consulting Krys. She’d have to trust me on this matter.

It wasn’t long before we were back in the car, and Krys sat with her arms crossed, refusing to hold my hand. “And how do you know I wouldn’t have preferred Vogue? Do you even know what fashion magazines I like?”

“Do you even like fashion magazines?” I questioned, having a damned good idea I knew the answer.

“That’s not the point, Tom.”

“I think that’s exactly the point. You don’t even read fashion magazines, much less have experience working with them as the subject of a photo shoot. They’ll want photos _and_ interviews, something you’ve never dealt with before, and I need you to trust that I’m trying to make this easier on you.” She uncrossed her arms and grudgingly let me take her hand again. “I’ve worked with ELLE a few times and think you’ll get on with them better. They’re a bit more laid back, less formal in their style during interviews and shoots, which should make it less stressful, something we’ll both appreciate if we’re going to have people from a magazine hovering around on our wedding day.”

“Alright, alright, you win. ELLE it is.” Krys huffed as if she’d just ceded in some matter of great consequence then shook her head and laughed. “Now on to the hard part… cake tasting. Why do I have a feeling you’re going to be purposefully indecisive just to eat as much cake as humanly possible?”

“Me? I would never.” Feigning innocence, I smiled coyly and batted my lashes at her, enjoying her carefree smile and unrestrained laughter. “Why, I don’t even like cake.”

“Oh, really? Then we must have a _very_ large mouse in the house who ate the last three Oreo cupcakes for breakfast this morning.” She gave me a sideways glance. “I’d say it’s about six foot two, roughly a hundred and eighty pounds or so with a hell of a smirk when he’s been busted.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t stop stealing glances at Krys as I drove us to the bakery. It wasn’t just a matter of being ready to settle down and have a family that had made me lonely. I’d craved small moments of an intimacy such as this with someone.

“I love you, Krys,” I said, turning serious.

She turned to look at me, her eyes shining in the sunlight. “I love you too, House Mouse,” she replied in absolute seriousness as well.

And we both dissolved into a fit of laughter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I completely imagine Krys as Kat Dennings. I don't know if anyone 'ships' Tom and Krys, but while I was making images for my various fics, I thought of a ship name for them, unless someone comes up with something better... Tom + Krys = Tomys. Lol.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been quite a while since the last update. I've been super busy with things going on and been sick... no fun. However, I hope this chapter makes up for it with some fluff and some sweetness and a first for Krys. :-)
> 
> Thanks for following this story, reading, leaving comments and kudos, and generally letting me know you're still alive and well and interested in receiving story updates! <3

“Five days left, darling.” I could barely suppress my enthusiasm to a publicly acceptable level of grinning like a maniac as we sat in the coffee shop in my usual corner, side-by-side, both on our laptops, both drinking nonfat white chocolate mochas thanks to Krys getting me hooked on them. “All the RSVPs are in, and it looks like only a handful of people won’t be able to make it despite the short notice… I’m emailing Donna the final count… God, she’s been a lifesaver.”

“I don’t know, Tom, you’ve been pretty deeply involved in all the planning. If this acting gig doesn’t work out, I’m thinking you should go into the wedding planning business. You could practically do Donna’s job for her,” Krys commented without looking away from her screen, determined to finish the edits on her final freelance job in queue before our wedding then she could put all her focus on her own writing and pursuing her dream like I wanted for her. “I have no idea how she managed to keep a straight face when you were discussing table settings and showing her the napkin folding options we were interested in… by folding examples in front of her. Emma and I were nearly dying… Hell, your mother almost lost it.”

Feeling my face warm with embarrassment, I covered it and shook my head, laughing. “Apparently, she’s a consummate professional, and three of the most important women in my life can’t resist a good laugh at my expense.”

“Honey, if you don’t want us to find you amusing, you need a complete personality makeover, but I can’t promise any of us would like you after that.” Krys paused her typing and leant over to kiss my cheek sweetly. “I love you just the way you are, Tom, knowing the right Shakespeare quote for any situation, able to fold the perfect lotus flower napkins for the dinner table, and yodeling in the shower for an entertaining end to the day.”

“I’ll have you know, I worked hard to—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Hiddleston.”

Krys was already smiling brightly at the source of our interruption, and I turned to find two young girls, no more than twenty at the most, standing in front of our table, phones in hand, wide grins plastered across their anxious faces.

“Hello, ladies. How are you?” I greeted them with an easy smile, hoping they’d remain calm.

The shorter of the two said nothing, continuing to grin, but the other was clearly bolder and the one who’d initially spoken. “We’re great… Um, sorry for interrupting. We really didn’t want to be rude, but we’re both huge fans and wanted to meet you for so long… and well, when we saw you over here with Krys, we just couldn’t resist the opportunity to meet you both.” She gave a quick wave and smile to Krys who did likewise. “As far as I know, there haven’t been any photos of fans with you both yet, and we’d love to be the first… That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Darling?” The young woman was right that we hadn’t been photographed together with any fans yet, and it wasn’t a subject I’d broached with Krys either. She knew it would happen when we went to Toronto and other places on our schedule, but these incidents of being approached in public places or on the street were different and not something I knew how to prepare her for, though she seemed to be handling it well, and I grasped her hand under the table, giving it a squeeze to thank her for being so good about it.

“Oh, I don’t mind at all. Are you guys on Instagram? Tom’s not, but I am. It’s really the only social media I’m very active on… I have a Twitter account Luke says I need to resurrect from the dead, but I haven’t quite gotten to that yet.” Krys engaged the girls easily and had them casually chatting regarding Instagram and Twitter in a matter of minutes, all anxiety dissipated from the initial encounter. “So, yeah, follow me, and I promise to start tweeting more. And if you post photos of us on Instagram, tag me, and I’ll repost them… I’ll also have to start posting more regularly there. I didn’t realize it’s been two weeks since my last post. I’m usually better on Instagram.”

“Yeah, well Tom’s practically died on Twitter, so you’re still more active on social media than he is anymore,” teased the taller girl. “Everyone in the fandom will be thrilled to hear you’re online.”

“I look forward to meeting more fans, especially if they’re as nice as you two,” Krys replied with a warm smile, seemingly comfortable, and I couldn’t have been happier to see how well her first fan interaction was going.

Soon the photos were over, hugs were exchanged, and both girls left satisfied with the encounter. “You did fantastic, darling. I’m so proud of how you handled that, and Luke will be over the moon.”

“I just have to remind myself that they won’t all be like that.” Pulling her phone from her bag, she glanced over at me, shaking her head. “They won’t all like me, and one day, we’ll run into those fans too.”

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “One day… and I’m sure you’ll handle that just as beautifully.”

The girls posted the photos on Instagram and Twitter, tagging Krys on Instagram and both of us on Twitter. She reposted as promised on Instagram, and we each retweeted with messages of how nice it was to meet them before we left the coffee shop and walked home.

“Holy shit, Tom!” Krys stood frozen in the kitchen, staring at her phone. “My follower count on Instagram and Twitter have jumped into the hundreds of thousands just since we left the coffee shop… Trys is messaging me saying there’s a Tumblr post by one of the girls we met with some of the photos we took and a brief description of meeting us, saying ‘Krys is every bit as sweet and funny as we’ve seen Tom in countless interviews. They seemed so comfortable together before we approached them, the perfect couple. Tom is totally my dream husband, but I can’t hate on Krys. He’s definitely in love and happy with someone who’s super nice to his fans, so I wish them both all the best. #HateFreeHiddlestoner’ and says the post is spreading like crazy with over a thousand notes on it when she looked last.”

Coming up behind her, I slipped my arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “This is good news, love. We should update Luke. He’ll be on cloud nine to hear of this hitting Tumblr.”

She nodded, saying nothing at first. “Why don’t you go do that? I think I feel like baking some cookies or something.”

“Okay…” I had to remind myself how new this was for her, though she did amazingly well with meeting those two fans, the bigger picture of it all had to be overwhelming. Truth be told, I knew I was asking more of her than I should, but I had faith in her strength to stand up to the pressure of everything my life would throw at her as it was now _our_ life… I just had to remember to be her support, not more of the pressure.


End file.
